


Catching Fire

by I_dlovetobeknowunknown



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development, Gen, Redemption, Self-Insert, Self-Insert Azula, Spirits, Unreliable Narrator, dealing with self-hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:56:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_dlovetobeknowunknown/pseuds/I_dlovetobeknowunknown
Summary: "Oh, Zuzu," Azula murmurs slowly, tilting her head, "you always were a slow learner." Her lips curve into a smirk. "But I guess you've finally learned."~Azula is spirit-touched; blessed by Agni himself. For Azula, however, it’s no blessing but rather something which binds her to Agni’s whims. All the knowledge she’s been given and it’s all a waste, she’s bound to let things play out the way they were foretold, stripped of her own choices. They should have known better, Azula is no one’s puppet and she’s going to get her way - one way or another. They should have never given her power and expected her not to use it.Fools.





	1. Book I. Destiny 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Towards the Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19252807) by [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/pseuds/MuffinLance). 

Book **I. Destiny**

_The pain is excruciating. The hot tears that run down his face scald, the smell of burning flesh filling the room as Zuko screams and screams. His shrieks echo around the great, wide room and there's nothing dignified about this but Zuko can hardly care, skin bubbling and melting off like hot wax and not single person rises, tries to stop this. All are silent spectators as pain splits Zuko asunder and all he can think is why... just why..._

_His father finally removes his hand and Zuko sags, trembling hand rising to touch the burned part of his face but hovering, unable to do so due to the agony. His father stares down, not an ounce of regret visible. Just, cold finality. _

_Why... _

_"You will learn respect," the man above him says, "and suffering will be your teacher." _

_Zuko's lost. Numb. There's no one he respects - loves - more than his father so he can't understand. Can't comprehend what's just been said. It doesn't make any sense._

_Through his blurry vision, he can see golden eyes staring down in hatred, just behind the pillar on the upper deck. Azula ducks out of sight and his father leaves. _

_Zuko collapses. _

* * *

Zuko gasps into consciousness, sitting upright as his sheets spill into a silky pool around him. There's sweat running down his forehead as he tries to control his breathing. His hands shake. He's had this dream many times, it never gets easier. He looks at Mai, who's still asleep and gets out of bed. It could be nothing but most things aren't when it comes to Azula, he just needs to confirm... if the image he saw of her was really part of a dream or reality. 

He ties a robe on half-heartedly and strides off, paying no attention to the guards that snap to action and follow after him. It's well into the night but the palace is far from empty and servants and guards lower into bows as he passes by. He sweeps into the wing that contains his sister and doesn't bother announcing himself before he walks inside. 

His sister is sitting right where they left her, bound in chains and she raises her head as he approaches. Her lips lift into a mocking smile. "Ah, ZuZu... or is it Fire Lord Zuko now? Do you need me to call you Fire Lord, Zuzu," she drawls, "or would you prefer father's approach? Pheonix. King." 

Zuko's face tightens. "Neither." He gestures at the chi blockers who bow and leave. 

Azula lets out a titter. "Are you sure you want to be doing that, ZuZu? Might get a bit dangerous for you, once my bending comes back in." 

"Enough, Azula." Zuko scowls. "That night, were you there?" 

"There are a lot of nights, Zuzu." A sneer crosses her face. "I might have been 'there', might not have - you'll have to clarify." 

Zuko takes a breath in and then another and a delighted expression crosses Azula's face. "Having some temper issues, ZuZu?" She croons, swaying slightly and Zuko closes his eyes. 

"The night of the Agni Kai," he says, "with father. You were there, weren't you? Behind the pillar." It's just a hunch nothing more, just one detail forgotten over the years but...

Azula uncrosses her legs and stares at him, leaning slightly forward. "Yes, I was there," she breathes, "so what? What are you going to do about it Zuzu?" 

"I always thought... you were looking at me, triumphing over my weakness but..." he raises his eyes. "You weren't looking at me, were you?" 

"Oh, Zuzu," Azula murmurs slowly, tilting her head, "you always were a slow learner." Her lips curve into a smirk. "But I guess you've finally learned." Her eyes gleam. "So, what."

Zuko opens his mouth, his mind blank. It's just one detail, one insignificant detail - after all that's happened over the years, he doesn't know why he's fixating on this. Like a piece of a puzzle that's missing, it doesn't fit and the inconsistency of it tugs at him. 

"You - " he starts, "why would _you _ever look at father like that." 

Azula starts to laugh, wheezing due to the force of it. "You?" She says high-pitched. "You of all people are asking me that? That's hilarious. Tell me, ZuZu: why did you hate our father?"

Zuko's never hated him. He loved him, respected him, placed him on such a high pedestal that he never thought that such a man could ever be undeserving of his devotion. "He burned half my face off," he says flatly. "He was never worthy of being called a father." 

"Well maybe," Azula says, "mine was for the same reason." She's half-bathed in the shadows and the twist of her face makes her look half-deranged. "He always was an abusive piece of trash." 

_She's lying. Azula always lies._

"You're lying." She has to be. "After everything that's happened, after everything you've done for him and now, suddenly you claim to hate him?" 

Azula shrugs and turns to roll her head from side to side as she stares up at the ceiling and drags out her answer. "Mayyyybeeee, mayyyyyybee not." She stops and looks at him. "Question is: does it matter?" 

He doesn't bother to answer and storms out of the room. This was a mistake. He should have never talked to her. After all, he knows best - Azula _always _lies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently stress writing is a thing. This might be continued. It might not. I just poured all the stress into here but idk, maybe you guys liked reading it. Let me know :/


	2. Destiny 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....* = meaning will be explained in the end notes.

Ursa's daughter is... disconcerting. It's an awful thing to say as a mother but there's something _off _about her daughter. Nothing about her resembles the other children. Azula is born with her tiny fists sparking (Ozai, of course, was very, very pleased) and as she grows up, the toddler does not babble or smile at her surroundings. Some babies are quieter by nature but her daughter - Agni, she just follows them with a vacant gaze, sharp intelligence buried underneath it and Ursa has to control herself whenever she spots her because that's her daughter. She loves her, of course, she does but that doesn't change the fact that the girl is unsettling. 

_Must be Ozai's blood showing up_, something whispers and Ursa squashes it, gently smoothing down the locks of Zuko's shiny hair. Her boy pleases Ozai less (he's kind: gentle down to his soul and Ozai _mistakes_ that for weakness) and he tries so hard to please, picking up all that he can to best the fire-bending that comes to his sister as easy as breathing. To get a word of kindness from his father. There's no resentment towards his sister either, though it would be so very easy to resent her at this age - his younger sister who bests him at everything (_not at the important things though, never at the things that ultimately matter, Azula could never be as empathetic; detached as she is.) _

She presses her lips to the side of his forehead, closing her eyes. If only she hadn't sent that letter. She had only been trying to test Ozai, never could she have imagined that he would vow to disown his own flesh and blood, in all but name. Even wild beasts look after their young. How could she have known that though he may be a beast in the skin, at heart he was something even worse than an animal? 

A tiger, though cruel, would not devour its cubs and Ozai, Ozai was depraved enough to kill his first-born for the mere promise of power. Her boy startles and Ursa summons up a smile, pulling up his covers to fully tuck in the sleepy-eyed child. _You were never just lucky to be born, my son. _She smooths down his hair one last time. "Zuko, please, my love, listen to me." She has so much she wants to tell him, so much she wants to teach him but it's only these few moments that she has left - her boy sits up blearily and she clutches his shoulder, saying the only words she can. "Everything I've done, I've done to protect you." Ursa searches his eyes before drawing him into a hug. Breathes in his scent for the last time. She's been so, so blessed that he was born to her. "Remember this, Zuko," she whispers, "No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."

_You may be the only hope for this cursed family. _Gently, she cradles his cheek with a hand before standing up and smoothing the hood over her head. His lost cries break her heart and she increases her stride, lowering her head to avoid eye contact with anyone as she leaves her son behind. Pain strikes, vicious as she runs away from one thing that had kept her adrift in this cold, lonely palace. 

The only thing she had allowed herself to love wholeheartedly. 

"You should have poisoned him." Ursa swivels around, robes flurrying around her legs as she did so. Her daughter emerges, quiet as a ghost and her eyes flicker gold in the torchlight as she stares at Ursa, something murky swimming beneath them. 

Ursa grabs her. "What are you doing here, Azula," She hisses, holding the arm of her unrepentant daughter. If anything, a sly expression crosses Azula's face, as though her surroundings only served to entertain her. She leans forward, breath tickling hot next to Ursa's ear. "You should have poisoned Ozai," she murmurs, hand going to cradle Ursa's head as she presses closer to her mother's frozen, crouched frame. 

"What a shame. Poison grandfather, poison father and no one would have ever known." Her hand strokes Ursa's head, a mimicry of Ursa's earlier actions and something cold settles in Ursa's chest. 

"You-" Ursa whispers, separating herself from her daughter - willing herself to feel anything other than the numbness. Quietly, she says, "The walls have ears, Azula," and stands up. Azula's hand brushes against Ursa's robes but Ursa cleanly steps aside, turns around, and walks away from her daughter.

Some things clearly did run in the family, after all. 

* * *

Azula stares after <strike>her mother,</strike> not _her _mother - never hers, always Zuko's. 

A calm expression crawls across her face. The stern visage next to Azula opens his mouth, "It was foretold," he says, back straight and hands folded behind his back. Azula ignores him.

She turns on her heels and strides back towards her quarters. When she enters her bedroom, there's an uninvited guest waiting for her, sitting on her bed. "I don't have time for this," she says airily, turning her back to him and working her head out of its customary hairstyle. She tosses the pins to the side and glances at her mirror, spotting the figure still sitting on the edge of her bed. His face gets stormier by the minute. "You best leave," she advises as she adjusts her cuffs. 

"Your mother killed me, girl," he growls. Azula pauses. The figure at her side turns his gaze away. 

Azula faces her grandfather. "Usually, when someone wants something, they should at least try to exchange a pleasant hello beforehand. Right, Grandfather?" 

Azulon gets off the bed. "Don't play with me, girl," he snarls, advancing. "You shall address me with respect! Your mother murdered the Fire Lord!" He steps closer, hands smoking. "As the Princess of the Fire Nation, it is your duty to avenge me. Turn the traitor in for treason." His eyes stare down at her. "Don't pretend you don't know, girl, and do what honor demands you to do."

Azula's expression shutters. "Honor?" she repeats. "Honor demands I avenge you? Well, what does honor demand to be done to a grandfather who ordered the murder of his own grandchild?" She flicks away a pin. "You're hardly the Fire Lord anymore, Grandfather. Just a relic of the past. I don't have to do a thing." Her face twists into painted pity as she stares up at him, insincerity dripping from her mouth like thickened honey. "It's terrible when you can't trust the people who are closest to you, isn't it Grandfather?" 

Azula hears the shift of fabric before she sees him move and without a moment's hesitation, she shifts, gripping his arms and twists. She allows the difference in height to work to her advantage, and flips him onto his back, slamming him onto her dressing table as her hands close around his neck. 

Heat starts searing through her fingers. "I'm so tired," she grits out, "of these hog-monkeys chattering in my ear _ALL_. _THE_. _TIME_." Azulon chokes as she tightens her grip, slamming him against the dressing table once more. His fingers claw uselessly at her hands and then, slipping, drags lines down the surface of the wooden table.

His eyes land futilely on the Fire Spirit lingering by her side. Azula lets out a scornful laugh. "Oh, there's no use looking at him. He won't do anything." Azulon's frame wavers, tiny wisps emerging from his ghostly body as he flickers in and out. "You want to know why?" Her lips bare into a smile "They_ can't." _ Azula leans forward, a sneer painted across her lips. "So, you know what they do instead, grandfather?"

She looks up at the fire spirit. "You want to tell him?" At his lack of a reply, she smirks. "Typical." She looks back down at Azulon. "They beg, grandfather, '_Oh Azula, you can't do this, you must not - it is fated' _as if they, who have no power but to beg the living, have the power, have the _right _to tell me what to do."

Azulon's eyes widen. "Blasphemy," he says hoarsely. 

Azula lets out a laugh so uproarious, it brings tears to the corners of her eyes. There are spirits who have higher powers, who control her actions as though she's a mere puppet on a string but Azula wasn't born to be_ anyone's _puppet. Did they think she wouldn't dare to defy? Did they - in their stupidity - forget just who they decided to crown as God-touched, _God-blessed_? 

She lets go and takes a step back. "Leave. Before I decide to extinguish you, completely." Azula isn't anyone's puppet and will never be - let alone Agni's. 

Zuko should be glad she's not one for fratricide. The simplest way to get out of this mess would have been to kill him. 

* * *

Akane has been working as the Prince's maid for the last five years. She's seen the changes in court, the way Princess Ursa left without a word, Firelord Azulon's sudden and inexplicable death, Prince Ozai's accession as Fire Lord, and the way not a single person in court protested at the succession which should have Prince Iroh's birthright. She knows better than to make any waves now, best to just keep your head down, get the pay, and leave with your head intact. 

"Prince Zuko's done for," Nutan whispers beside her, folding the bedsheets. Akane freezes but the stupid, stupid girl keeps going. "The Fire Lord's anger has been palpable for many days now, he should have never spoken out at the war council, and on his first time there as well! The Fire Lord's nose has been cut off* in front of his generals by his own son, how could he tolerate such disrespect?" 

The fool. Speaking of rumors such as these was enough to get their entire family annihilated. Did she think that the Fire Lord or better yet, Princess Azula was merciful? Akane knew better to speak of such matters, now of all times. It could not be denied that rumors were a currency in court that kept you alive but everyone in court knew that Prince Zuko had fallen in favour. Princess Azula's accession to Crown Princess wasn't far off and yet, this damned fool wanted to speak of such things when the one rising to power hated it above all? 

Terse and swiftly, she replies, "Do not speak of such things, it is not our place." She lets her eyes flicker around the room they're in to signal to the girl to stop, to take notice of who she was offending before it was too late. 

"Come on," Nutan scoffs, a smile of equal amusement and derision playing at her lips after taking note of Akane's silent message. "You can't possibly believe the rumors about her."

The maid almost laughs. The fire princess with her all-hearing ears and her all-seeing eyes. It'd be funny if it wasn't such a horrible joke. Everybody knows that its Princess Azula who rules this part of the palace - truthfully, there's nothing that can be hidden from her in the entire palace, though those in the know, the lowest in the food chain: the maids, the kitchen staff, and the others, they keep it to themselves - lest it reaches Ozai's ears and the whole wing gets wiped out for treason. Akane says nothing and keeps quiet, she's already been implicated for being in this fool's presence. The less she interacts, the more her sentence will go down. Let Nutan damn herself, Akane's seen too much to disbelieve or to fool herself about the outcome. 

* * *

The sentence comes two days later. The royal children are on the grounds, Prince Zuko feeding the turtle-ducks, just three days shy of his upcoming Agni Kai as Akane and Nutan shadow him. Princess Azula rounds the corner and steps up to her brother. 

"Zuzu, I need to borrow your maids." 

The Prince looks up, eyes narrowing to stare at his sister in suspicion. "What for?"

"My stupid rabbit-mice ran off with Mai, I need to borrow yours - you know how it is, and I'm only going down there." The Prince follows the Princess's finger to a spot which is still within his line of sight and purses his lips. 

"Fine," he mutters, turning back to his turtle-ducks. Akane does not dare to look at the Princess and keeps her head bowed deferentially as she follows the Princess, Nutan at her side. 

The Princess stops at the promised spot. "Here." Something is pressed into her hands. Akane swallows upon seeing what it is but obediently holds out the quiver full of arrows as the Princess picks one out with ease. "The other one, go and stand by the target." 

Nutan shoots her a panicked look but Akane does not meet her eyes and pretends not to see. "Look up," the Princess says in dark amusement and unwilling, Akane forces her eyes to meet the Princess's gaze, though she trains it just past her ear. 

"Oh? You've been taught, that's good, some would think that standards were slipping in the palace." Princess Azula turns to the target and pulls back her bow and releases. The arrows whistle past and stab directly into the center. Just an inch away from the arrows, Nutan pales. 

The Princess lowers her bow and frowns. "This is a bit too easy," she muses, turning back to her. Akane's hands tremble, but she does not dare lower her gaze without the Princess's explicit order. This level of play-acting... The Princess smirks. "I know," she croons, withdrawing an apple, "how about we make things a bit harder." She throws the apple to Nutan. "Put it on your head and stand straight. This Princess shall try to hit it." 

Unbidden, Nutan's eyes search for the Prince, but the Prince has his head turned, tearing pieces of bread for the turtle-ducks swarming in front of him. Akane wants to look away, especially as the young maid starts sobbing, even as she places the apple upon her head. That foolish, young girl. Akane blinks, eyes dry, she should have known better to talk but better it ends here, with the girl, rather than the Princess making a statement with her entire family. She's a chunk off Ozai's flesh, the Princess - who knew just how far she would go? 

Agni knows Fire Lord Ozai never endured any perceived slight, even as the youngest Prince. The stories of his brutality are still known to this day, as well as the lesson that nobody cares about what happens to the lower class, so long as the royal family's wrath does not land on their own head. 

The Princess pulls back the bow and aims. The arrow releases, impaling the apple perfectly, as well as Nutan's hair to the target board behind her, and the maid stands shock-still, her stiff frame wrecked with trembles. "Kneel," the Princess says coldly, fully aware that her arrow won't allow the slightest movement without the young maid ripping her own hair out. 

"Rabbit-mice should know their place." The arrow catches on fire. "My brother, that is, the Prince Zuko-" 

An enraged yell echoes. "AZULA!" 

The Princess smirks. "- Right on cue." She turns back to the maid and wraps a finger around a silky tress, that's already halfway burning. "He does so like his turtle-ducks, even when they bite him. He thinks he can coax them with bread but _I _know better. If it bites once, it'll bite again - the best thing to be done to a _biting turtle-duck _is to rip it out, root and stem. Before it makes a nuisance of itself and leaves its bitemark in place." 

She pats Nutan's cheek fondly and steps back just as the Prince approaches. The flames abruptly peter out. "Oh, stop being such a baby Zuko, she's not even hurt. I'm well aware of your fondness for your..." her gaze lands on Akane and she restrains a flinch, the Princess's lip curls, "_rabbit-mice, _after all." 

Prince Zuko steps forward. "Her hair has been burnt to crisp, Azula," he hisses, eyes blazing. 

The Princess rolls her eyes. "Oh boohoo, how can one ugly rabbit-mouse live without her hair? Besides, I controlled my flames to prevent scarring her skin. You should be thanking me, Zuzu." 

Prince Zuko's jaw clenches. He whirls around and helps Nutan to her feet. "Come," he snaps with a dark expression, Akane bows to the Princess and follows her Prince out of the gardens.

Nutan resigns a few days later. Her grandmother seems to have caught the dragon pox. Terrible, that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Fire Lord's nose has been cut off = not the literal meaning, metaphorically meaning he's been humiliated or had a blow to his reputation.


	3. Destiny 3

Akane stands, hands clasped together and the screeches of her prince still echoing in her ears. The doors burst open and Tarak hurries in, a grim mask on his face. "We need to leave," he says lowly. Akane nods, of course. Prince Zuko has so obviously fallen from grace - a banished, disgraced prince, though the banishment itself will take place in a week, once the prince has recovered from his injury. A patchwork of brittle, scarred skin stands where once smooth, milky skin had been. Even the imperial physician is unsure as to whether Prince Zuko will ever be able to see out of that eye, ever again, so thoroughly has the Fire Lord burned it. 

The palace is not a safe place anymore, especially not for her, one of the maids who served under Prince Zuko - one who had his favour, and that of his missing mother before him. "The prince," she whispers as Tarak sweeps her things into place, a hasty pile of what needs to be discarded scattering the floor.

Tarak looks up. "What." He frowns. "The prince will be fine but the Fire Lord will have my head if we do not leave and Princess Azula, yours." 

Akane gapes and scuttles forward, crouching to join him in packing up their necessities. "What do you mean?" She hisses. "What have you done to earn the Fire Lord's wrath?"

Tarak grunts. "His message came," he says, the words barely interchangeable from his breath as he spoke. "A week before. The crew that is to form Prince Zuko's ship, he wanted it to be formed of those disgraced, and without honor," his eyes flicker, "those more likely to cause mutiny than to serve loyally." 

Akane sucks in a breath so sharp, it whistles. "A-and the Princess?" 

"She came not long after. She had her own choices for who should be placed on her brother's ship, and she made sure they were selected."

"She'll have him killed," Akane whispers. "We must warn the prince, Tarak. He is not safe, not here, not on sea - the palace does not want him to survive." 

Tarak grabs her arm and pulls, his eyes hard. "What you speak of, it's treason. He is Crown Prince no longer but a banished member of the royal family, disgraced, and without any honour." Closer still, he pulls her til his lips move against her ear. "The ones the Princess chose, they were the only good ones in there. Lieutenant Jee is as likely to kill a boy his son's age, as Agni is to return in flesh. He is safe." 

There's a warning clear in his eyes as he pulls away but she's no fool. She didn't survive for five years, without understanding what lay underneath. The Fire Lord would kill to keep his secrets and the Princess would kill to keep hers. 

Akane holds her tongue. She will take this secret to her grave, but it is not for Princess Azula, it is her loyalty to the prince who lies unconscious in his royal chambers, which seals her tongue. Who dared to speak when no one else would, and payed the price for it. 

They grab all that they can and still move, with them and run. The passages Tarak leads her down aren't ones she's ever seen but she holds fast to his hand and follows him, on and on, they walk until they exit onto the salty port. 

There's a familiar figure waiting for them, gold eyes glinting under her hood. Immediately, Tarak and Akane sweep into bows. "Your royal highness," they chorus and the fire princess speaks. 

"Rise." Her palm lights with blue fire. The flames illuminate her face, the coldness in her eyes and the harsh lines of her face, inherited from her father. "Tarak, you know what will happen if you dare speak of this. I will not hesitate to silence you, or her, and annihilate the entirety of both your families. My reach is far and wide." 

There's a glimmer of respect when Tarak nods and murmurs, "Of course, your highness." Akane cannot understand, as glad as she is for the protection Prince Zuko had been afforded, the sudden turn of face Tarak has towards the princess. Princess Azula is only doing what any other decent, sane person would be doing, though it is not hard to say that there is much of that lacking in the royal family. 

The princess hands her flames to air and they stay there, _floating in thin air. _Slowly, cupped paws come into shape, and a woman's lithe figure right after it. Spirits stand before them, brought to form through the flames cupped in their hands - Princess Azula's flames.

Colour leeches from Akane's face, leaving her pale and faint. "You're spirit-touched," she breathes. Blessed by Agni himself. Who in the palace hasn't heard the Fire Lord's favourite saying in regards to his children, that one was born to be lucky and the other just lucky to be born? To think, it was true - but of course, the Fire Lord couldn't know - if he knew, it would be the princess in Prince Zuko's place and in a far graver condition, to be sure. 

What a better claim to the throne than the sign of Agni's favour; the divine right he handed her, a far surer sign than the circumstance of her birth. Should the princess show this, who would not support her? Who would challenge Agni and damn himself? It is not in the Princess's character to hold back, not when she has the power to _claim, _so Akane surely cannot understand why the princess has not done anything. 

Maybe she does not care for the people, but Princess Azula cares for power. 

The princess's hard eyes glitter, and she speaks to the spirits. "Kill them if they dare speak." The spirits blink, showing their acceptance and the princess leaves, heading for the same passageway Akane had left out of. 

Even if she spoke, who would believe her? From those who know what the princess is truly like; who would believe that someone like Princess Azula is spirit-touched, that Agni has shown his favour to someone like that? Akane would be considered blasphemous and nothing less. 

* * *

It's not long before she's summoned in front of the Fire Lord. Azula dresses and enters, sweeping into the room with her back straight and walks to stand at the centre. She looks up at her father, though she can hardly see anything through the high wall of flames that tower over her, hiding the man who's perched so high. She tapers down the disgust that threatens to seep into her expression.

The flames burn hotter, flaring in response._ Ah_, he's displeased with her. She kneels and bends, bowing with her forehead to the floor. The perfect image of obedience. "My royal father, your daughter greets you."

He doesn't answer and lets the silence drag on, making his displeasure clear. He keeps her on her knees and Azula knows, he will not let up until bruises have formed on her knees. Until the lesson has been engraved in pain. Ozai does not favour Azula for her bending, nor for the image of himself he sees within her; the gifted second-born overshadowed by a weaker sibling, only due to the error in the order of their birth - no, he favours her for her age and her gender.

The Fire Lord can reign longer, the younger his heir is and never before has there been a female Fire Lord. Oh, no doubt Ozai will clear the path for her - who will go against his word? His word is law. When she takes the place of Fire Lord, it will be with his seal of approval and support from _his_ ministers. Only through him, can she ascend to the throne. No doubt, her dearest father has plans to rule through her in his later years. 

If she was to try and rebel, who would support her when there's a viable male heir in place? One that is supposed to rule as Fire Lord by order of his birth, alone. Ozai has so carefully sculpted her in his image, of anyone who does have plans to rebel, who would be foolish enough to sit her on the throne and risk another Ozai? 

The only way she can see glory is through her father, he's made sure of that. She is his assured heir because he has made it so and favoured only because of that security. Azula is to be his as demanded, perfect but never _more _than Ozai - can be more gifted than Zuko but never more powerful than her father. If Azula was not spirit-touched, would she have ever been aware of the tightrope she's walking? 

"Rise." After two hours of kneeling, her legs are numb with pain but Azula does not allow that to show as she rises. Her face is impassive as she stands, tall and proud, arrogant in her stance. 

"You killed the one I had plans to use, without my order." _You dared to disobey the Fire Lord, to act without his permission - who do you think yourself to be? Who do you dare equate yourself with? _

The direct vision of her future shoots her a bloody grin. Prince Ashwatthama the First circles her languidly, a hand reaching out to be placed on her back. "Bow," he whispers, guiding her into the ideal form of deference. 

He had been such a promising crown prince, beloved by his people - killed by his father, the tyrant who only viewed him as a threat to his power. "Father, I was only ever acting in your interests. He could not stay alive, after doing what he did." 

"So you sought to do it without informing me. Tell me, how does choosing crew members who are not loyal to the Fire Lord for Prince Zuko be in my best interests?" 

Prince Ashwatthama's hand pushes her down until she's kneeling once again. "Careful," he murmurs, "you must never dictate what the Fire Lord can do. You cannot mention he already had plans to place Zuko in a crew full of mutiny. That must be your thought." 

"He is loyal but they are not. They will never suit each other, my royal father, I promise you - I would never equip a threat against you. Sooner or later, Zuko shall die in those cold waters, far away from Agni's light for the disrespect he has brought you, and he will probably bring most of the traitors teeming on that ship with him."

The flames cool a few degrees. Approval. Ozai does not tell her to rise and pain shoots through Azula's legs, and she goes to bite her lower lip but Prince Ashwatthama's fingers gently stop it. "You cannot show any sign of frustration. Respect and obedience, only. The pain will pass, Princess but your head cannot be re-attached. Endure." 

He is only kind to her because he sees her as a child, and because of their shared circumstances. Azula has never seen Ashwatthama step out of the throne room, always lounging in the room where he died. His favour, however it comes, is a precious thing to have. He is her eyes and ears when it comes to Ozai. 

"As expected of my daughter, you've dealt with Zuko well. Now, what should be done with my fool of an older brother?" The flames flare. "Sulking around the palace, hovering over the disgrace; one pathetic traitor to another."

This is not a show of trust, not a confession no matter how it's framed; it's a test. He's always testing, this father of hers, and always finds them wanting. One day, he may even decide to get rid of the failures and start anew, though Azula knows he won't. The spirits do not allow her to change what must be told and so lacking as he will find her, Ozai will never suspect disloyalty from her.

As long as she is assumed to be his, arrogant as she is but obedient in front of him, he will not start another song and dance with a concubine. He only has a few but they're all from positions of power, just waiting for the chance and even for him, it'll be difficult to get rid of them once they have begotten a whelp for him to mold. 

Not that they'll ever get a chance at that, Azula hides a smirk, since Azula has long poisoned their insides. "My dear uncle," a pronounced sneer, "should be gifted with the opportunity to look after my brother. No doubt, he'll be glad for the chance and eagerly sail away from the palace, and with no aid, they'll both die in the seas when in-fighting eventually breaks out." 

"You think," comes the cool reply, steeped in disapproval and disgust, "that the _dragon of the west_ will die due to mere in-fighting?" 

She allows her body to fold in hurt, showing him what he wants while her heart burns with anger. One day, no will be able to make her bend, make her kneel. "He has not stepped on the battlefield for years, father, he has become weak. He's a fool for Zuko, and you, yourself have acknowledged Zuko to have no potential with bending. Can my weakened Uncle defend both himself and Zuko against 30 crew members who hate the imperial family? Zuko is his weakness, my royal father, allow that to be exploited." 

"Zuko's crew..." Azula grasps her robes. "You have chosen there to be fire benders there, haven't you?" Azula smooths her robes out again, not daring to let her excitement show when she replies.

"Yes, father. I've handpicked the crew. He has everything he _needs_."

"Good. You may leave."

Azula bows again. "Father." When she reaches the doors, there's another command.

"Azula?" A pause, forcing her to stop and wait - like a dog at his beck and call. "Meet me in the training room, next week at 7." 

Ah, so she isn't quite forgiven yet. 

* * *

A week later, Zuko's outdated ship sails off with the injured prince, their fool of an uncle, and the 30 disgraced crew members on board. Azula spares a moment to see her brother off, covertly as she can and then turns back to get ready for her oncoming spar. Father never was soft when it came to their spars, he'll be less so with his displeasure. The palace is now hers in its entirety and with it, comes the full weight of Ozai's constant surveillance. Zuko isn't here to bear his ire anymore so it'll be just her. For the first time, she almost envies Zuko (_<strike>not the first time, he always got mother's love</strike>_) but since she's father's favourite child, it's only fair she bears the consequences. 


	4. Destiny 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So uh, I know I said I wasn't going to update since I'm preparing for exams but I got angsty and just poured all my stress into this. This will probably be the last update until February since that's when my exams finish.

If Father was merely displeased before, he's most certainly enraged now. Azula wipes back a smirk as a blow leaves her reeling against a pillar, her father stepping up like an enraged dragon, plumes of smoke emerging from his nostrils. Not a pleasant sight, that. Whatever scary image her father's trying to present, it's ruined by how utterly ugly he looks doing it. Behind him, Azulon's eyes follow his son silently, flickers of _something_ twisting over his face now and then as he watches. Probably repressed rage. Azula doesn't spend much time deciphering it, her grandfather must have been a shit father to spawn someone like Ozai anyway and stands up.

"Useless," Father says coldly. "Is this all the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation is worth?"

The flames flicker just a bit too close to her face, whether a warning or just another one of Ozai's whims she doesn't know - one could never really tell with them, they ended all the same way anyway. She takes it the way which will be most self-preserving and rolls out of the way, calling up her flames as she drops into another fire-bending stance. 

_I'm nine_,_ you idiot_, Azula says scornfully in her heart as she moves. _Might as well scar me too, almighty, benevolent father of the nation that you are._

"I will improve father," is what her mouth says instead, as she channels the flames through the soles of her feet and aims towards her father's face. 

The returning roar of fire that faces her has her rapidly recalculating.

She skids back but her father is already there, a fire wreathed hand against her throat and all her retreat routes cut off. Azula breathes. "I accept defeat," she offers quietly. The hand falls but the eyes that gaze down at her burn in disdain.

She always falls a bit too short.

* * *

The next few weeks are much the same. One of the concubines enrages her father and she gets called into the training room. Her brother does something foolish across the ocean and her father deigns the time to teach her how to never be such an idiot. The ministers waste his time on insignificant matters and Azula gets called in to be shown how to never tolerate such weakness, and then straight afterwards, gets a lesson on how undeserving she is yet, of the position of the crown princess. And, so it goes. 

One of these days, however, Azulon must have gotten tired of seeing her land on the floors because he steps up as soon as Ozai's left. She calls up her flames as Ozai's back gets smaller, his words echoing in her ears; that she could be so much more if only she applied herself and that as her father, it disappoints him to see her fall further from her potential each time. Azulon's hands curl under her elbows, holding them securely as he lifts them, changing the position every so slightly. "Now breathe," he says, stepping back.

Azula breathes, and the flames crawl out of her hands, pouring up her hands till her entire arm is a mass of flaming fire. Azulon falls into step with her, lifting his own arms to mimic her but standing so much surer of himself, and when he breathes, his flame is nothing like Azula's writhing, dripping liquid fire. Instead, Azulon's flames are barely an outline, steady and controlled - just barely visible but undoubtedly there, from the heat drifting off from him. He turns mildly towards her. "I thought you were the first true genius in our family in generations. Where are your blue flames, granddaughter?"

Azula's flames twist and change shape with ease. Blue fire flickers along her wrists. "Breathe," Azulon repeats and Azula breathes, the lit candles that decorate the room swaying with her each breath. "Now, turn," he demonstrates the fire bending move and when Azula goes to follow, he steps back and watches in scrutiny. 

"Again," he says once she has finished. Azula goes again. "Again." Azula does it once more. "Again." One more. "Again." Another time. She stands up, dousing her flames and tries to figure out what she's done wrong. Without a prompt, she repeats the move, cataloguing each breath. 

When she stops, she knows. Azulon eyes her critically. "I see rumours of your intelligence were not exaggerated," he mentions. "Good. Do you know where you've gone wrong?" 

She nods. "Yes, grandfather," Azula responds. She may not have any respect for who he is as a person but he is teaching her when he doesn't have to, offering her advice he doesn't need to, and right now she will give him the respect his position demands. She breathes. The candles sway. Azulon takes up his stance opposite her. 

"Well, granddaughter? Shall we try it out in practice?" His fire lights up his palms. 

Azula has never been afraid of a challenge. She tries again. 

* * *

Azulon is a harsh taskmaster. Azula's body hits the floor and shaking, she goes to stand up, resuming her stance once more. These days she's been hitting the floors doubly, once from her spars with her father and the other half from her practice time with her grandfather. It's reached the point that she's become more intimate with the marble than her bed.

Air hisses, trying to escape through her gritted teeth as her leg throbs but she doesn't let the wheeze through. _She's not weak_. She'll get this. She'll master it - just like she has mastered everything else in her life. 

The bruises which dot her skin are hidden underneath her clothes. No one needs to know that the one being called a genius is utterly undeserving of the title. Azulon watches, unmoved as she limps and Azula snarls and attempts again. 

That evening, when her father calls her in for a spar, she does something unprecedented. She pushes. For so long she's been darting between a fine line; _can't let him be suspicious - keep your head down - keep it down, keep your cards close to your chest, _and the resounding, _he's disappointed, he's disappointed because you're weak, <strike>you couldn't ever please mother and now even father-</strike>_

She's not heartless, no matter how much others like to think she is. She has her one fatal weakness and it's her stupid, useless, soft heart. The one that has been used as a fine blade against her, kept against her at all times - the one that lets Zuko walk away, that doesn't let her burn this entire palace to the ground, engulfed in the blaze of one final victory. 

Azula wants to be free - away from this cage she's constructed for herself - no longer having to hold herself back or keep constantly surveying her actions and her words. She's so tired of being kept on a leash by Ozai, by Agni and by her own emotions.

Sometimes, though, the things she does scares her and she ends up thinking that no - maybe she doesn't have a heart, given how quick she is to lash out and her capacity for cruelness - maybe, it's all a delusion to provide cold comfort and to provide a reason for her being so _weak. _

She's always on edge, nerves half-frayed from the self-imposed chains and the one trigger that could set her free has finally been sent away, out of reach. If only she wasn't so damn weak, if she could get rid of Zuko then she wouldn't have to bear the insidious whispers of _you keep disappointing father_, chipping away at her last hair of sanity. 

So when Ozai sends a gulf of fire her way, she bends impulsively (form razor-sharp after the countless sessions of having bruises accumulating on her skin) and twists, ripping the fire away and moulding it into her own. When her hand presses against his weak spot, the candles stay still, not one swaying. 

She's... done it? 

The flames flicker, coiling around her and...

It's not a win, not quite one - not with the way father has one hand pressed against her kidney while hers is levelled against his throat but it does ensure mutually assured destruction, and it's the closest she's had to a victory in _weeks. _After weeks of failure, disappointing him again and again, she's finally met his expectations. 

"As expected of my daughter," Ozai says simply and for a second, there seems to be a glimmer of _pride _his eyes, and a tiny hint of a curl at the corner of his mouth and Azula's chest swells with pride, as she grins down at him. 

Then her heart freezes as she realises just who she's thinking about. Father and daughter stare at each other, and something heartbreaking sweeps across Azula's face before it shutters.

"Father," she says quietly, dropping to one knee. "Thank you." 

Ozai stands up and his hand hovers over her head. In that brief moment, Azula allows herself the dimmest flare of what, she doesn't know -_ mayhaps, hope._ And when he withdraws it and walks away Azula wrenches what's left of her twisted, battered heart and locks it up, letting it wither for having a foolish, stupid thing as hope in the first place. 

A leopard could never change its spots. No matter what smiling front it presents, one should not forget that underneath, it was a snarling, blood-thirsty beast. Azula's throat tightens, she mustn't forget. 

Azula hates him. She hates Ozai, loathes him, is disgusted by him but most of all when it comes down to it: she hates herself. For thinking, he could have some humanity left in him despite the numerous atrocities he's committed and for loving him, regardless of how utterly undeserving of it he is. She smiles bitterly. Out of all the things to concretely prove she has a heart. For her to be human over - it had to be this.

But how could it have ever been anything other than this, having lived the way that she's lived?

She doesn't have an Iroh, to piece up the pieces that Ursa left - she's never really had an Ursa either. All her life, she's only had an Ozai. So how can she hate him, (even as she _hates _him) when he's the only thing she has? His loved, twisted and deformed and _wrong_, _oh she's knows it's wrong_, is all she has, all she'll ever really receive. Is it so wrong to crave a parent's love? Azula hates herself, but she hates Ozai more, for giving her hope, for burying whatever good he may be capable of (_and is he capable of it_, she wonders), with his countless evils. She hates him for not being the father that he could be, the one she wants and the one she needs, and for being the only father she has anyway. 

She hates him, and she's tired of loving him but she loves him regardless, no matter how bitterly (_and filled with shame, <strike>she should be better than this</strike>)_ it is. Each time her heart softens and she forgets, just what this man has done - the cruelty he's evoked, she wonders at herself. All this time, she thought Zuko stupid for loving the man who burnt his face; who burnt his son for the simple of speaking (for daring to speak the truth when men twice his age looked the other way) but is Azula any different? 

Maybe, it's the only similarity she and Zuko will ever share. She won't admit it and never to him, least of all, but in this regard, in the one senseless thing they both have in common, Azula understands her brother. 

* * *

"Ozai was right," Azulon says gravely, a disgusted curl crossing his lips at the mention of his second-born. "That girl has got an innate talent for the fire that no-one else has ever seen." 

Ash-blonde hair sways as blue eyes glint up at him. "That move," Azulon manages through tight lips. "I never taught Ozai it but he learnt, all the same, lurking from the side. He probably sees a reflection of himself in her, but she's better and I don't think he realises yet." Malice flashes in Azulon's eyes. "Just how quickly would that reflection warp once he realises it's _his _second-born that could end up usurping him?"

"Is that why you taught her?" The ghost by his side questions. 

A disgruntled expression crosses Azulon's face. "He _trusts _her," Azulon spits out. "Or he trusts his control over her. When he saw that move, he thought she was trying to please him - like _himself. _Not that she's managed to complete a move that my father only half-way managed to pin down. I should have known better to expect anything of that boy, he's always been a bit slow."

"Slow enough to poison you and get away with usurping the throne. I suppose his experience with you must have taught him how to keep a firm grip on his own children," his companion mentions mildly. 

Azulon stills. Foreign features stare at him with dead, dark-abyss eyes. "You might have been the ruler of the palace, Azulon but you're dead now and in this palace, you're the youngest of us. So let me give you a warning, child. You may do whatever you want. We'd be hypocrites to deny you the pleasures of your afterlife otherwise, but you cannot touch that girl. She's the closest some of us have gotten to a grasp on the living again, and **_we. won't. be denied. _**Understood?"

Azulon's face tightens but with gritted teeth he nods once, sharply and disappears. Ezekiel watches as Azula silently patches up each bruise with a thin layer of ointment, blank as she methodically goes through each one like a routine. Not even a wince crosses her face as she continues. 

Azula's always been odd. When she had first approached him, Ezekiel had been surprised that an offspring of that disgusting bloodline could see him and with dark amusement, allowed the cruel child to boss him around - playing a companion to her whims, and providing half-baked comfort for each of her insecurities. 

_"Ezekiel, Mother sometimes seems cold when she sees me. Even when she kisses me, it's not like Zuko's. Not really."_

_"Come," _ Ezekiel had beckoned and led her down a centuries-old tunnel forgotten by the passage of time, and waited for her to inevitably trip and snap her neck. She never had, always quick-witted and sharp, always coming back to him with another complaint lodged on her lips. 

_"Ezekiel... how old are you? You keep staying the same, does your peasant family not have enough to feed you? I'm going to outgrow you at this rate, doofus - if you need food then this princess has abundant food, just ask. I'm capable of feeding my own people."_

So _soft._ Like taut string, tense on the outside but so fragile, so easy to break on the inside. So desperate for companionship, for fake warmth that she intentionally kept the blindfold on. Why she had a playmate no else could see. Why she continued to grow but her playmate stayed the same. Five-years-old forever. 

When Azula had been four or thereabouts. The little family of four had gone to Ember Island and Azua had wandered off. Small as she was, she had fallen into the water - little legs unable to right herself - and when she'd come back, she came back different. 

Up until then, she'd only seen odd ghosts here and there. When she came back, she saw the spirit world in all its entirety. The blindfold had been ripped off without her consent. 

Suddenly, she was a lot more guarded against Ezekiel's advice, and barely-hidden caution shadowed her eyes against everyone she interacted with. Living or dead. How _amusing. _She'd been fun to play with when she was always a breath away from death with one false word from his mouth but this jaded version of her, the one a hair away from fracturing into a thousand pieces of insanity aroused his curiosity. 

Whatever deal she made with Agni, and it had to be the Fire Spirit who breathed life back into her, had changed her fundamentally. She alternated hot and cold, keeping them close enough to burn but never close enough to trust and Ezekiel wondered... 

Well, it didn't matter what Ezekiel wondered. Azula listened to no-one but herself and trusted no-one but herself. It's always been more fun to watch a play unravel due to its own mistakes than direct manipulation anyway.

There's always something _so sweet _about seeing this family destroy itself.

Just desserts and all that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azula, whack-a-moling her emotions with blasts of fire while I watch.
> 
> It's okay, _maybe _if we don't think about what's stressing us out, it'll stress us out less.
> 
> Does something else.
> 
> Promptly erupts into a ball of even _more_ stress.
> 
> ~
> 
> I think I related heavily with Azula never feeling good enough while writing this chapter. Even finishing this chapter was like 'I'm not happy with this' but as an impulsive person, I posted it anyway. 
> 
> This chapter was actually quite emotionally draining for me. I hope you enjoyed it. Also, while I'm not responding to any of them right now, I do see all the comments being sent my way and am really appreciative of them. 
> 
> I promise I'll get back to you individually when I uh, feel more like a functional human being. 
> 
> Thank you for giving my fic your time and telling me that you enjoyed it. 
> 
> It means a lot 💕


	5. Destiny 5

As is wont to do, Azula as a little sibling delights in jerking her older brother's chain. Zuko discovers a pretty little air nomad monastery? Azula sends an order by messenger-hawk that he should get packing to one of the eastern colonies instead. He gets a little comfortable visiting Mai? "Zuzu, you should stop wasting our father's time and go after that monastery you've left decaying." 

Each time he starts finding something, Azula is sure to send him somewhere else. He isn't well-received in any of the colonies she sends him to - banished Fire Prince or not. The ones rebellious can't trust him as Ozai's son, and the loyal ones can't trust someone that the Fire Lord openly despises. 

It's a hard life, her brother's but it'd be worse if he were learning nothing from these little trips. He may have not known it but he's been kept on a tight leash; there were reports on his every move coming flying back to Ozai. Well, Azula rectified that matter immediately and made Zuzu aware in the most annoying manner she could. The little delights in life shouldn't be missed. And while she was at it, she made sure to seize control of the reports herself.

"I've sent Zuko and our annoying uncle to the eastern colonies, he really shouldn't be dragging his feet, should he father?" She comments to Ozai in one of their early morning meetings. The glint of delight in his dark eyes isn't lost on her. With an airy wave of Ozai's hands, Zuko's reports get sent to Azula instead and Azula makes it her life's mission to make every single one of Zuko's excursion's look as petty as possible. 

It amuses Ozai and it serves her purpose. Azula has always excelled at getting things done efficiently. So Azula tracks the little spies in her brother's company and soothes Ozai's fears of her uncle somehow collecting a band of uprisings against her father. Her father can't kill Zuko while her uncle lives, not unless he wants to be bloodily killed in one manner or another. Zuko is her uncles' reverse scale - anything in the world can be touched but him. So her father resorted to banishing Zuko and sent him on a worthless order that will keep him out of sight and in misery for the rest of his life. 

It's such a shame that Zuko handed the man the opportunity he'd been waiting for on a silver platter. But things, as they are, serves Azula perfectly, so it's not like she's complaining. As for Zuko? A little character-building is always a good thing. 

And while each mission gets reported back as useless to Ozai, who takes her reports to him in the morning over the actual scrolls (though no doubt he is reading each word she's sending out), she's hoping that somewhere in Zuko's little bird brain, he's gaining at least something of worth. If it were her, she'd be cataloguing which governors would be loyal to her father, which governors could be persuaded to back her when the time comes, and making her best impressions - cataloguing which of the common folk she could manipulate to create havoc while she seizes control in the meantime. No doubt Zuko does none of these, but she's aware that with Zuko's nature he'll be grasping other things instead.

Useless things for a revolution but things needed to groom a sane and well-rounded Fire Lord. While she'll be brow-beating the politics and arranging things for Zuko's upcoming coronation in the palace, he's going to be off grooming himself to be the perfect little Fire Lord. Not that he knows it but with his character, he'll be doing the appropriate things anyway. Sympathising with the local folk, learning things that aren't visible from all the way high on the ladder when they're reduced to just words, charming people with his kind nature, etc, etc. She has no idea what it entails but he does so she sends him to the worst affected areas and lets him do his job. He managed with a slightly more psychotic younger sister actually trying to maim him so Azula would honestly be offended if, after all she did, he wasn't able to now. 

Zuko will never need to rely on physical strength or intimidation to rule. It may be his destiny but Azula has never been one to forego hard work just because of _destiny. _Azula's destiny is to end up locked up somewhere for the rest of her life with a broken mind - does Agni really think she's going to let that happen? She's going help Zuko get his place on the throne and once the curtain falls, she's going to find her own place in the world. 

So Zuko gets worked over twice as hard and once he has found his footing with a crew that is no longer thinking of mutiny, Azula slowly relaxes her reign. Oh, she still keeps an eye on the spies onboard but lets everyone assume that she's finally gotten tired of the game she's been playing for the last nine months. Ozai is too busy to care about the son and brother she's firmly convinced him as useless to even spare anything beyond a glance at their activities. 

Zuko is now free to roam the wild, wide world as he deems fit. And now, the bait she'd released to distract the tiger needs to brought back into hand. Just because she'd allowed the third concubine to distract her father for a few months, did she really think that she was worth anything in his eyes? That she had finally gained his affections?

Azula scoffs. The most worthy thing in her father's eyes will always be himself. Following that is power, and lastly Azula. Azula is his legacy and it's time she starts to live up to that. Ministers and Fire Sages aren't going to be willing to abandon her on their own if she doesn't shape up. Bah! Who wants to be a competent Fire Lord anyway? The amount of time she has to spend guiding these useless idiots is such a _bore. _

Doing that for the rest of her life? No, thank you. Zuko is _more_ than welcome to it. Since he seems so willing to slave away at a thankless job, he can have it. It's his anyways. Stamped in Agni approved letters as well. 

Azula has much more interesting things to do.

* * *

"Consort Iluya," a voice drawls. Iluya turns. The Fire Princess strides into her quarters, an amused smirk scrawled across her face as she casts an eye around dismissively. She acts as though everything here is her own as she steps over a silk robe discarded on the floor and settles on the couch languidly. 

"Leave," she commands, and the servants doing the consort's hair immediately bow and scurry out with their faces blank. Iluya's own face settles into an impressive mask. The princess has no fear, she does things as wished and has continuously antagonised ministers here and there. Now, she even goes against the Fire Lord's favoured concubine? 

"You might want to get rid of those," Azula advises out-of-hand as she gets up and swipes a hairpin, playing with it aimlessly in her hand, and settles back down. "Servants that aren't loyal to their master should be... _reconsidered_."

A threat. Iluya's face tightens. "Crown Princess Azula," she states coldly, Azula may not extend her the proper courtesies when conversing but Iluya is not the same. She was brought up better. "The palace is still ruled by the Fire Lord; you will not find anyone disloyal here." 

Azula considers this and taps the undecorated part of the hairpin against her lips. "Hmmn," she hums, "I see." 

And then, without warning, the silk next to her feet catches on fire. Terror suffuses up Iluya's throat but she does not flinch, and neither does the Fire Princess who just stares placidly at the fire that spits next to her booted legs. 

Of course, she has no worry, she's a bender. "Crown Princess Azula," Iluya warns, voice tight. 

"See the thing is," Azula says, "You keep addressing me as Crown Princess Azula. Do you have an idea of what that means, Consort Iluya? It means that I am the Fire Lord's legacy -" the fire starts crawling its way next to Iluya's robes and Iluya does not jerk them up. 

"- and that means that I could burn this entire wing of the palace down with _you _in it and sure, Father may be furious but he'll still smooth things down and sweep your death under the rug because favoured concubine or not, I rank higher than you. We're backed by the same person, you and I, and tragically for you: I'm more useful to him." 

Sweat chills at the back of her neck. Iluya does not tremble. She folds her hands in lap and stares straight ahead as the fire starts licking its way up her clothes. The anklets on her feet start heating. 

Princess Azula lets out a cackle. She's mad, utterly mad. Iluya presses her lips together. "I see why he likes you," the princess muses, "you have grit, it makes it all the more fun to play you; dangle you along to see what clever little schemes you cook up, only to dash them. But unfortunately, Consort Iluya, you've outlived your usefulness." 

"You forget Crown Princess," Iluya reminds her because someone needs to remind this deranged little brat of her place. "That my family has stood by the Royal family for generations. Your Imperial line has only been able to wage wars with our might, we've helped you conquer more than a third of the colonies." Her eyes harden. "You cannot survive without us." 

"Yes," Azula accepts, "and that's why you're such a threat. Why do you think your family has been selling its girls to the Royal Family for generations? A fat little meat that cannot be swallowed by the Fire Lord will become someone else's fat steak. You cannot possibly expect us to tolerate you living when you are no longer staying in line?" 

"You're an eyesore in fathers eyes now. He just can't do anything openly and incite rebellion; leading to civil war while he's busy waging war outside. Otherwise, why would he wait for this long? He would have long swallowed your family whole and spat out your armies to conquer somewhere else, leaving them to die in another pit so that our loyal soldiers can advance with their sacrifice."

Iluya grinds her teeth. "We've been loyal -" she hisses, "- our loyalty was never in question! When your great-grandfather wanted to wage war, our family was the first to back him!"

"Yes, and in return, he took in one of your great-aunts as a consort. A great honour, I'm sure. Now, Consort Iluya, would like to explain to me why you and your sister-wives have been trying to cross the line, sneaking in supplies that can negate the effects of the teas the Fire Sages provide?"

Iluya holds her head high. She's sorry to her family, it's likely they'll have to wage a long and bloody fight due to her death, but her sacrifice will be worth it. There's nothing left in this line anymore, a new heir is needed - the Fire Nation is dying, bleeding out dry as the Imperial family continues to warmonger outside. If even one them had a shred of sanity left, she and her sister-wives wouldn't have had to resort to this. 

"It would have been of his blood," she declares. "It would have been of your line."

"And that's supposed to be of comfort to me?" The Crown Princess snorts. "My brother is due to die on the high seas - I have already thwarted four attempts on his life. What about mine? What would you have done with me? Poison? A little slip off the cliff? Suppose you've dealt with both of us, there's still my father and uncle left. That's four members of the imperial family you little idiot, how the hell were you expecting to get this done without anyone catching on? Who the fuck would support you? You've gone against the will of the Fire Spirit who breathes life into all, you've killed the manifestation of his will in the world, suppose you had succeeded? The common folk would have torn you apart."

"So now you've incited civil war, you've killed all members of the imperial family who could rule so there's no ruler in the Fire Nation, you're dead because you've done the most blasphemous task there could be, and you've left a toddler who could _possibly _rule while the other nations lunge for this chance to put our nation down once and for all. Do you think that slip of a thing wouldn't die within a couple of years once someone has secured their power as its regent? Someone of its blood that's still alive, most likely from its maternal side?" 

Iluya pales. "Someone out there has been playing a very, very good game with you," the Fire Princess informs her cruelly. "I supposed your brother finally got tired of playing second to the palace." 

"No," Iluya mouths. The sword of betrayal lodges itself hard in her chest. She's not stupid, she wouldn't have survived this long if she was and so the only way she could have been this misled is if...

Azula smirks in satisfaction. "Which one was it?" Iluya demands in anguish, a hand pressing against her chest as she struggles to control her stifled breath. "Which one!" She cries. 

"Both of them."

* * *

Azula watches the Consort as her face breaks; her indomitable will finally shattered in the face of such intimate betrayal. The blaze of fire goes out, not that the Consort notices. 

"You were seriously playing a dangerous game," Azula admires, "fooling with one another while you're all properties of the Fire Lord. Adultery is adultery no matter who you cuckold with, even if they can technically be called your wives as well." 

She's a little stupid, the Consort Iluya, but it just means she can be guided by the right hand. She's not completely idiotic though, otherwise, she'd be useless and Azula wouldn't be talking with her. Her cooling corpse would have been long hauled off somewhere else. 

"You should have known better," she informs her, "everyone in this palace is only out for themselves. It makes sense they'd use your bed as a way to use you, after all, you've all been trying to do the same with the Fire Lord, and he's much scarier entity than you. He's got power, whereas you? Even if you found out, what is it that you can do? Nothing. Nothing of importance, at least."

Consort Iluya glares at her, and even watery her eyes are formidable. It's like she wants to pluck Azula's mouth right off. "Also, it's like none of you notice - you're all much lower on the food chain than you think you are. Father just tolerates you. Look, I've been here for so long that the smell of things burning should have alerted the whole wing. Yet, not a single servant has come by. Father's perfectly aware that I'm here and most probably burning you to death and he hasn't bothered to lift even a single finger."

"You're just trying to use me," the Consort heaves out, "stop it with the manipulation. What is it that you want, Crown Princess?"

"I have no interest in disloyal servants." Azula readjusts her legs and leans against the couch, making herself comfortable. "Your sister-wives, lovers, whatever. They had plans to replace the heir for their own motives, but their families are still loyal so it won't be too much trouble if I get rid of them. Father will be glad and unlike you, their families aren't too overly fond of them either. They just sent the most pragmatic one out of the unloved lot here - who the hell would risk the daughter they've brought up like the pearl in their hand on a Fire Lord who would only see her a nuisance? No-one, unless they've got other plans."

"Your family is the only one which will make trouble if I get rid of you, but they were already planning on rebelling so it's not too much of a trouble to get rid of them now. I've taken up a hobby of weeding recently, you know?" Azula squints. "I can tolerate the filth but others can't. Not everyone has a strong mentality like me. So I've got to start _cleaning. _How bothersome."

"Now, because I'm very merciful I'm going to offer you a choice now. You probably got manipulated by naive ideas of honour and duty and all the rest. So I'll give you a chance to fulfil those naive ideas."

Consort Iluya is still glaring. How impressive. "How," she bites out, "because I'll be clear: I do not trust you."

Azula rolls her eyes. "By Agni, you'd think I was the only viable option as heir for the throne."

Iluya stares. "But - you cannot - he is disgraced! Banished."

Azula examines her fingertips. "Yes," she says dryly, "banished for disagreeing on the subject of sacrificing his subjects. The same thing I'm about to do your family, by the way. In any case, he seems to believe in all the same things you. Protection, honour, duty, and all that rot. Fascinating, don't you think?" 

"You just -! How can you expect me to co-operate when you mention killing my family in the same breath you suggest I support your disgraced brother?" 

Azula shrugs. "I cannot keep traitorous subjects. Surely you know that much." If she didn't know even that much then it'd be a waste to keep her. Pig-like teammates, she didn't need them. Those kinds of allies did more harm than enemies. 

Iluya's face whitens even further and then she deflates. "... yes," she whispers, she stares at her folded hands and then back up at Azula's face. "My brother cannot be saved. Neither can the main branch."

"No," Azula agrees.

"The branch family?" 

"That can be... negotiated..."

Iluya stares at Azula's face. "I will provide you with information. I will damn my family members to death. But I do not do this for you. I do this for the remaining members of our family that can be saved. For ones who serve our family that can be saved."

"I don't want your information," Azula waves her hand dismissively. "And to be clear, those of your family who are planning to rebel will be killed with or without your permission. What I want is your support. When my brother ascends the throne he will need political backing. He'll have gotten rid of my father and myself to get on there," and when she realises what that sounds like, Azula adds on a little, "_legitimately_."

To make it very clear, she amends it to: "None of that kinslaying nonsense. In any case, the political scene will be swarming with sharks looking for an opportunity to seize. He will probably win your loyalty all by himself but until he does, I want your undivided loyalty." 

"If you do not sway, I will protect the ones that can be protected and in time, bring you back to your place of power. You try to betray me and I will make your death more painful than your sister-wives." When Iluya blinks and an aborted sound spills from her lips, Azula claps and gets up. "Great. Glad you agree. Anahita, I need your help." 

The figure that had stood by the entire time comes into view, her ghostly body fleshing out. "Let's make things _very clear_," Azula bears her teeth down at Iluya. "I do not trust you. Trust is for those who don't have something to lose. You and I both have a lot to lose. You're going to making a contract with me. The _spiritual _kind - mortal affairs just can't be trusted. At least I know that spiritual ones are as binding as a binding can be."

Iluya makes the contract.

* * *

Zuko does not groan like the rest of the crew when he sees a messenger-hawk heading their way. He does, however, put more force into his steps as he goes up to the designated scroll-reader of the day who steadies the messenger-hawk and unrolls the scroll. 

Zuko doesn't even bother reading them these days. It's all the same. In fact, it's less infuriating having someone else read the letters and translate, rather than reading the letters himself. That way, things go straight to the heart of the matter and not half as many things are broken or toasted. 

"Where has my sister demanded we go today?" Zuko asks scowling. "The North Pole perhaps?" 

The scroll-reader (Nazu? Zuko had heard Lieutenant Jee address him like that once) flinches, looking at the piece of paper blankly. "Your..." he starts and pauses. He seems unsure as to whether or he can voice it, his hands wrinkling the message.

"Well?" Zuko demands impatiently. 

The man makes another uncertain expression and then looks down at the scroll, nods his head to himself, and then straightens his back and draws the scroll fully open with a flourish like he's about read a royal proclamation. He draws a deep breath in, as though to steel himself, and starts to read. 

"The Royal Consorts, who have committed high treason, adultery, and conspired to incite war within the Fire Nation with the Shu family, have been tested in Agni's light and damned. The Fire Lord, in his great mercy, has chosen to spare the branch family of the Shu Family. Their soldiers are to be sent to conquer Ba Sing Se while the traitors have already been executed. It's signed by her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess Azula of the Fire Nation."

The entirety of the crew is frozen. Someone drops a mop as it passes through their slack fingers in shock. 

Zuko makes a sound. "All _three _of them?" He asks a little strangled.

Nazu looks embarrassed. He coughs slightly and hands the letter to Zuko. "It seems they were found in various... states..." he explains in a stilted tone, awkward beyond belief, "it's a scandal. The biggest in the city, even more than..." he stops abruptly and averts his eyes. 

Than Zuko's banishment. Zuko snatches the letter, not forgetting to offer a curt "thank you," over his back as he storms off. "Uncle" he barks as he throws the door open and strides in. "Have you read this?" He slams the letter onto the table so hard it wobbles and Iroh hurriedly goes to stabilise his teapot.

"Dear nephew," Iroh says, checking on his teapot in concern, "that is no way to treat a great cup of tea!" He peers at the scroll sprawled out in front of him and now that Zuko's looking at it, he can see a lot more ink on it than just the few sentences Nazu had read out. 

For once, his uncle's attention fully shifts from his tea (jasmine, now that Zuko can smell it) and focuses on the letter, something minute shifting in his expression as he reads. "Prince Zuko," he begins, gravelly, "if you would please close the door."

Zuko closes the door and when he comes back, his uncle has finished reading and hands it over to him. Iroh watches him contemplatively as Zuko makes his way through Azula's gleeful script. There's the first, formal announcement that Nazu had read, and then below a full replica of what had happened in Azula's colourful commentary since she was _"so sorry you're having to miss out on all this entertainment, being a banished prince and all, Zuzu. Really should work on that soon, dearest brother mine_." 

Zuko grits his teeth and resists the urge to throw the letter to ground and stomp on it. Work on it? Work on it! He could if only she wouldn't keep sending him off on inane tasks! 

"What do you make of that, Prince Zuko?" Iroh asks him softly and Zuko glares at the floor. What does he make of it? Shame that things are unfolding in his home and yet, here he is being informed of it as an outsider and disgusting joy that finally, something else has drowned out the news of his banishment and loss of honour.

After a while, he voices, "Wouldn't that create more trouble for father?" His uncle hums his approval so Zuko continues. "The Shu were staunch supporters of the throne; losing them may make us seem unstable and the other two great families, they may think that we're turning against them. Court politics are always in play, it'd be easy to assume the Fire Lord set this up in order to get rid of them and seize power for himself."

Iroh smiles. "Very good, Prince Zuko," he praises. Zuko flushes and avoids his eyes, turning to the side. Uncle, though, unbothered just reaches out to take the teapot and pours some into another cup, offering it to Zuko who takes it. "A cup of calming jasmine tea, I find it very soothing myself."

When nothing else is forthcoming, Zuko irritatedly takes a sip of the tea and then places it back with a _clack_. "Is that it?" He probes, a hint of a growl slipping into his tone without his permission. Zuko wrestles with himself and finally, it seems like his patience is rewarded. 

"What is the one thing in the Fire Nation that cannot be disputed, Prince Zuko?"

Immediately, without thinking, Zuko answers, "The word of the Fire Lord." He stares at the distorted reflection looking back at him. The horrid prove of his shame and lack of honour is so glaringly obvious, it burns. Zuko's hands tighten around the cup, moving it jerkily and the reflection blurs. 

"Not quite." The quiet sounds of Uncle shuffling the letter provide a welcome distraction for Zuko. "There is one thing that is even higher than the Fire Lord, and the one behind this has used it very cleverly."

Zuko draws a blank. There's nothing higher than the Fire Lord, no-one more respected than his father - nobody living at least, and of course, you couldn't count his dead great-grandfather or... "Agni," Zuko breathes. 

"I see you've realised." Uncle points at the place where Azula has written, _'They were brought before the Fire Sages and tested by the divine light of Agni. The third consort was already quite dead, alas having unfortunately tried to murder me but the others were judged on the spot and their breath of life was taken from them. They died witnessed by all, proof of their crime come to light for all to see.'_

Uncle starts reading out loud, "The Shu had been raising a ruckus trying to pin it all on my head before the trial, and when I accused them of rebellion the two other families did not even dare to breathe. I could not let them openly incite a war of course, nor run and so I proposed trial by fire. The divine light of Agni would judge for all to see what the truth is, and as it is, the truth finally came out. Father is quite pleased."

The words "Father is pleased" scald. They ache with vitriol and Zuko clenches his jaw, his fingers digging into his palm out of sight, under the table. His uncle continues talking, unaware of Zuko's turmoil, and Zuko keeps his eyes firmly fixed to the table. Not daring to look at the words, "Father is quite pleased" any longer. 

"It's quite the bait your sister took, Prince Zuko. It could have gone either way but now that it has swung in her favour, the two great families that are left cannot accuse your father of turning against them. They will be on guard but their loyalty to your father is still assured -" 

"ENOUGH!" Zuko spits out, lurching to his feet. "I'm done!"

"Prince Zuko -"

The only answer is the slamming door.

* * *

Iroh looks at the closed door and withholds a sigh. His gaze turns to the innocuous letter sitting on his table. It seems time to inform the White Lotus. There are changes occurring in the Fire Nation that must be kept an eye on. Remembering his nephew's back, Iroh's expression falls and he reaches out for the tea still gently steaming on his table. Perhaps some calming jasmine would do him good, too. 

And then, in a couple of hours, he will go and find his nephew. He'll be more open to receiving comfort then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azula's routine when she has to recruit someone: hmmm, guess I'll go with a healthy dose of threats and make them fear for their lives, and _then_ I'll offer them some candy. Just a little bit. And then threaten to kill them again if they betray me. 
> 
> *Shrugs* such hard work putting people and things on fire all the time. No idea how Zuko does it without all this, really. *sips water* can't wait for the day I can finally hasta la vista this place.
> 
> Also,
> 
> Zuko & Crew: finally relax.
> 
> Messenger-Hawk: Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> *
> 
> Lol, I was listening to 'The Reynold's Pamphlet' while writing that last scene. I wonder how that song would go for the three consorts instead? It'd be hilarious if a version of that spread around the Fire Nation. Plenty of thought for next time, maybe. Thanks for reading and being such a lovely, supporting bunch!!! I'll get around to replying to everyone sometime soon, now. 💖💖💖


	6. Destiny 6

After three long years, the day is finally here. The Avatar has returned, and the whole world knows. 

The Fire Nation's colossal failure to capture the Avatar while he was at one of their _own_ islands has made them a laughing stock in the eyes of the other nations - Ozai is furious and has tightly suppressed the news inside their borders but outside? The news has spread and the damage has been done. Hope is spreading and already minute rebellions are arising in some of the Earth Kingdom colonies. 

Father was informed earlier, of course, by the Fire Sages the instant the eyes of Avatar Roku's statue started glowing, and Azula was subsequently warned against sending any mocking letters to Zuko following his failings at capturing the Avatar (reports on that came in fairly frequently, courtesy of Zhao). The overwatch of Zuko and his failings were left to Zhao.

But now that even Zhao has been unable to suppress this, Azula has been given free rein. With relish, Azula sends her fastest messenger hawk Zuko's way. 

* * *

For the first time in two years, a messenger hawk from the Fire Lord's palace heads their way. Zuko's steps falter at the sight of it, a traitorous hope rising which he squashes down ruthlessly. There's no way it'll be a message from Father, if anything, it'll probably just be Azula taunting him again. 

_But she's stopped doing that the last two years. She's gotten bored. Now that the news of the Avatar has gotten out, maybe... <strike>Father has finally thought it time to message me? </strike> _Lieutenant Jee handles the hawk this time, pulling off the messenger scroll and unravelling it. Zuko looks away and bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing at the ground before he lifts his head again. 

"Who's it from?" Against his will, his heart starts to pound, picking up its speed. 

Lieutenant Jee stares down at the scroll, his eyes scanning the words. "Your sister, sir," he answers and Zuko's stomach drops to the bottom of his feet. Of course, how could he be so foolish? His chest hurts and Zuko growls, hating himself for his stupid, stupid, childish reaction.

"Dear..." Lieutenant Jee pauses, an odd expression flitting over his face. "Zuzu," he reads and Zuko's eyebrow twitches. _"You'll be happy to know that your failing at the Crescent Island temple has led to the unearthing of five traitors. Four of the five Fire Sages stationed there have now been banished, and the last, Fire Sage Shyu (who explicitly helped the Avatar) has now been imprisoned at the Boiling Rock as per my advice. As ever, Father values my counsel."_

Zuko breathes, awful suffocation raking his insides as Azula's message goes on. _"Perhaps it'll soothe your soul to know that you aren't the only hopeless failure, after all."_ Here Lieutenant Jee pauses again and a reluctant smirk lurks on his lips as he reads on, _"Commander Zhao also failed in capturing a twelve-year-old boy despite having an entire blockade on hand. So really, your failure has nothing on his ingenuity."_

As dreadful as the appearance of Azula's letter has made him feel so far, Zuko can't help the matching smirk the sprouts on his face at Azula's remark on Zhao. It's nice to know that although this stunt has left his standing in his father's eyes unchanged, Zhao's standing has been significantly lowered. All Zuko has to do is find the Avatar before Zhao and things will be back as they were before. He'll no longer have to wait for messages from his father, he'll be welcomed home with open arms by the man himself.

"Change course," Zuko commands, a new fire lighting in his eyes, "we're heading north." 

* * *

Zuko glares at the messenger-hawk sitting innocently on his crew member's arm. "Go on," he says lowly, still glaring at the messenger-hawk which tilts its head at him, "read it."

The man reads it.

_"Dear Zuzu,"_ Zuko grinds his teeth - would it kill Azula to leave at least a tiny bit of his dignity intact? Whose idea was it to read these blasted things out loud again?_ "News has reached the palace that you've gotten involved with pirates of all things. Not only did you lose the Avatar, a twelve-year-old boy who has yet to master any other element than air, but you also lost your boat to pirates."_

Zuko breathes. "Is that it?" he asks, massaging his forehead and acting like he doesn't notice his uncle chortling into his tea or the entire crew trying and failing to hide their smiles. 

"No, sir," the designated scroll-reader of the day answers. "There's more."

Zuko waves his hand, gesturing to him to get it over with.

_"P I R A T E S."_ The man spells out and then looks up, grimacing. "It's just the Princess emphasising the word 'pirates', sir." 

Zuko closes his eyes and jets of fire steam out from his closed fists as the entire ship guffaws.

* * *

The latest messenger hawk carries just one sentence. 

_Really Zuko, terrorizing the nuns? _

Lyn suppresses a smirk at the Prince's reaction and beside her, Nazu sniggers, turning to pretend-cough into his elbow when Prince Zuko whirls around to scowl at him and then stomps off into his chambers, likely for a good sulk. 

"Did you see his ears flush pink?" Nazu whispers to her, a fine-tuned habit in all the crew after learning about their Prince's scarily good hearing. 

How could she miss it? There were twin spots of red on his cheeks too. "He's just a kid," Nazu muses at her, grinning. Lyn nearly rolls her eyes.

"You're just a kid too," she replies dryly. 

An offended expression crosses Nazu's face. "I am not!" He whispers heatedly, "I'm eighteen! He's like what? Thirteen?"

This time Lyn does roll her eyes. "He's sixteen and the only one younger than you, _kid._" 

"Yeah but he's all grouchy and throwing tantrums all the time! I'm actually mature!" From the mouth of babes indeed. Had any of them thought this way before General Iroh's revelation? Before Prince Zuko had risked his all to rescue the helmsman? 

Lyn raises an eyebrow. "Sure," she answers flippantly, "if that's what you think, _Lee_." She doesn't bother to suppress her smirk this time when 'Nazu's' face pales and he splutters. 

"Fine," Nazu says grumpily, "so I changed my name. There's got to be a thousand Lee's out there, you know! It's not a crime. Besides," he lifts his nose high in the air, a haughty expression on his face. "At least _I _don't go around terrorizing nuns, unlike our youngest."

"Sure," Lyn calls out as the boy goes to change positions with one of older firebenders, who does so with the long-suffering expression of an indulgent elder. "If it makes you feel better about your 'maturity' to label him as the baby." 

"He is the baby!" Nazu yells back over his shoulder. 

The door slams open. "What's this about a baby" The 'baby' barks, his face set in an impressive scowl as usual. "And why aren't you searching for the Avatar!" Nazu squeaks and his face retreats inside his helmet, lips pressed together in a thin line as he stares ahead with dead eyes. 

Silence descends on the deck. Prince Zuko crosses his arms. "Well?" He demands, "someone explain to me how talking about a baby is more worth your while than searching for the Avatar?"

"We were discussing the traits of Tigerdillo's, sir," Lyn says with a straight face when everyone else fails to answer. "It just came up how wrong our perception of them was and how we realised that chasing the Avatar."

Prince Zuko uncrosses his arms and frowns. "I see," he says, grudgingly, "I suppose I can see how that can be relevant." The furrow of his eyebrow deepens. He truly looks like a sixteen-year-old boy like this. "When did we come across the Tigerdillo's? I don't remember seeing them recently."

"It was a long time ago, sir. You must have been too busy looking for the Avatar to notice irrelevant things such as Tigerdillo's." Nazu shoots her a poisonous look, his eyes practically asking her what she's doing. 

Prince Zuko narrows his gold eyes, the scar tissue on the left crinkling as he does so. "If it was relevant enough for you to notice instead of searching for the Avatar," he says frostily, "I want to hear it." 

"Lyn will explain, sir," Nazu blurts out, throwing her under the Tundra tank.

Lyn smiles. "I'd be honoured. See, when we first met the Tigerdillo a few years back, sir, we found it to be distasteful. A snarling beast with an armoured shell and long, sharp claws - why none of us could find it likeable. But recently, I've revisited my opinion and have come to find it quite cute."

"... cute," Prince Zuko repeats.

The older firebender next to her lets out a quiet laugh. Peering at his face, she comes to find that it's Taru who grins at the Prince. 

"We were too blinded sir, back then, to realise it was just a baby which had been hurt and needed help. That's why it was so quick to lash out. We couldn't see past its sharp claws and armoured shell to see the weak spot it was protecting underneath."

The incredulity on Prince Zuko's face fades and he sighs. "I don't know what prompted this 'revelation'," he says irritably, "but the discussion of baby Tigerdillo's can be kept for _after _we've captured the Avatar."

Nazu snorts, and at Prince Zuko's glower, he stares at his feet, biting at his lip to suppress the smile stretching across his face.

By noon the entire crew knew about the 'baby Tigerdillo'.

* * *

For the first time in three years, a messenger-hawk from Zuko comes her way, instead of the other way around. Azula pets the messenger-hawk, setting it to the side on a perch and opens the scroll. She's eager to see just what it is that Zuko's deemed worthy enough of sending to her after three years of no contact. Fully opening the scroll, she stops short at the sight of the flowing calligraphy that's painted across the letter.

This isn't Zuko's pen ship. It's their uncle's. 

There is only one reason why Uncle Iroh would be contacting her, of all people.

So it's finally happened after all. Zhao has guts. Trying to assassinate her brother and getting away with it, he'll be the first, and only because the Ocean Spirit will be getting to him before she can. As for the filthy pirates he managed to persuade into carrying the deed out? Azula scrunches the paper in her hand, and it lights on fire as a blackened glint enters her eyes. They can hardly hope to escape. 

She throws the paper behind her back as she strides back into her room and collapses onto the bed. Her father will probably summon her later to announce the news. 

The sound of tiny feet gliding on the marble floor echoes behind her. "Your brother has finally perished." The soft voice is macabrely gleeful. Azula doesn't even bother lifting her head. She's well aware of who this is. 

Sure enough, tiny white arms grasp onto her sheets and a short frame clambers on. His pudgy cheeks are lifted into a triumphant smile as he stares down at her, and Azula closes her eyes to avoid the unearthly blue which murkily swims with schadenfreude. 

"First it was your cousin," he sings, "and then your grandfather, and now your brother. If only your father, uncle, and you could disappear just as fast, sweet Azula." His chilled fingers stroke her cheeks.

Azula grunts, her eyes still closed. 

"If you're going to put the effort in, then I'd prefer if you'd stroke my hair instead," she drawls, her eyelashes fluttering underneath his ministrations. 

Obligingly, Ezekiel moves his small hands into her hair, stroking soothingly. "Dead Lu Ten," he sings under his breath in a strange tune, "and dead Azulon perished by his own, now Zuko has joined them, exploded into ash in his boat. Should Ozai join them soon," his voice becomes more and more delighted, fervent as he continues, "killed by the Avatar for his insolence."

None of his words rhyme, there's no more effort put into this rather than varying ways the members of her family have and should perish. Ezekiel hums, the bells on his anklets and necklace chiming as he sways, "Iroh to be split apart by the Earth Kingdom savages, and Azula to be found swinging on a vine from the old willow tree by the pond, her neck cracked and breath gone." 

"My wish isn't that large," he sighs, the strange tune trailing off but still slowly moving his hands. "If only the rest of your filthy line could disappear from this world fast enough, oh! Just how happy would I be." 

"If it helps," Azula answers, "my father, uncle, and I will die without ever furthering our line. You've waited this long, surely you wait another century for our deaths."

Ezekiel's hands finally still. "You said 'without furthering our line', not that your line will end. Who is it?" His breath is coming out heavier now, she can feel his stomach heaving from where she lays her head on his lap. She doesn't respond. Funny how the dead still mimick the motions they went through in life. There's no need for him breathe now any longer, but he doesn't seem to notice, gasping in more air in his growing fury. "WHO WILL CONTINUE YOUR FILTHY LINE?"

It finally occurs to him. His hands mist over as they go to pull her hair. His malevolence levels must have shot up with the realisation. "Your brother," he breathes, "he's still alive, isn't he? That's why you're so calm, you murderous thing. How could you stay still when someone's touched something of yours? This entire palace would be sprayed in blood if he were truly dead." 

His teeth clack together. "You unclean things! Like elbow leeches, you'll live one way or another! Feeding off other's blood." 

Azula hums. "Well, you're not wrong." Her eyes fly open. "My brother is going to live for a long, long time, Ezekiel, so I think it's about time you start reconsidering your options." 

* * *

"I miss our baby Tigerdillo," Nazu says morosely to his companion. He's sure it's one of his old crew members. Who exactly, he can't quite pin down, but the outline is familiar. "Did you ever think we'd miss him snarling at us? I've gone mad, haven't I?"

"Err," his companion responds. In a teenage voice. A horribly, tear-jerkingly, familiar teenage boy voice. Nazu does not scream "YOU'RE ALIVE?" and burst into tears, or grip his former bratty leader by the shoulder and shake him back and forth. 

His eyes shine, going moist as he bites at his bottom lip. The brat beside him panics. In a gruff voice, Prince Zuko says, "There, there," patting Nazu on the back as tiny rivulets of tears stream down his face. The Prince resembles the forest spirit, He Bai, with both areas around his eyes heavily bruised and purple, and Nazu immediately bursts into tears, wailing on his panicking shoulder. 

Their Prince already had it hard with one eye like that, how's he going to handle both being like that? Who's going to marry him? He already has a horrible temper! 

"What's going on here?" A stern voice inquired as an older firebender walks towards them.

Prince Zuko deepens his voice to that horrible gruff again. "No idea, sir, he just lost it." 

The firebender stills. Nazu blinks back the watery film covering his eyes and covertly traces his features, trying to identify the man beneath the helmet and he lowers his eyes back down when he realises it's Eiji. 

Stiffly, Eiji answers, "I see," and wraps an arm around him. Leaning down, he orders Nazu, "Get it together, newbie," and then turns around and leaves, presumably heading straight to inform General Iroh or Lyn. 

Probably Lyn, the General has too many eyes on him right now. It'd be suspicious for former crew members to go running to him when they had supposedly betrayed his nephew. Nazu sniffs and straightens, clearing his face with the back of his hand. 

There are too many eyes on this ship. The Prince cannot be found to be alive. 

Nazu will do what he has to and steer clear of Prince Zuko.

And if anyone else discovers the truth? He'll take care of that too. 

* * *

The moon goes out, blotting the sky in pitch-back, and then it comes back as if a light switch has been flicked back on. Azula watches this from her room and awaits her father's order. It comes not too long later. 

"Azula," Ozai says as she kneels, "Iroh is a traitor and your brother Zuko is a failure. I have a task for you..."

_Finally. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting into canon events!!! Can't wait to finish this arc and approach the canon divergence point >.<
> 
> A lot of you have been concerned about Azula's fate so I just wanted to you reassure you: as an author, I wouldn't ever subject my characters to senseless suffering. A lot of the characters I write go through a lot of hardships but it's all to make it to that light at the end of the tunnel. Without a doubt, most of my fics have a projected Happy Ending fate. So don't worry, no matter what I put her through, in the end, it'll all be worth it.
> 
> Also, if you open my [tumblr](https://i-dlovetobeknowunknown.tumblr.com/) and hover above the updates section on the edge, you can always know what I'm working on and how soon you'll get a release! Once again, thank you for your love and support! I love you guys, thank you.


	7. Destiny 7

It's been a long time since Azula's seen her brother. 

Preparations must be made. 

As she exits her father's throne room, she aims her gaze at the figure lazily hazing in and out of sight and deliberately drags her gaze to the door. 

When she makes her way to her room, he's already there, waiting for her. 

"Kindly behave like a civilized being, please," she says coolly, and Prince Ashwatthama shoots a bloody grin at her, his hand reaching up to smooth ragged, hacked bits of hair away from his face, and when he does so, his ghostly frame stills to reveal a Prince.

He's finally dressed the way someone of his station should be, his dark skin is smooth - there are no unsightly wounds that reveal the gory tale behind his death - his hair draped in the way servants of skilled hands should have shaped it, and gold earrings hang from his ears: a twinkle of a chime as they sway with his movements. 

"I'm going to be away from the palace -"

"- I heard."

Azula turns sharply and withdraws something from inside her sleeve. "Yes, well, I'm going to be gone for a while Ashwatthama, and _this_ isn't going to cut it anymore." _This_ being the tiny bit of material she'd managed to chip from the dragon throne. 

"I still need your reports, even if I'm out of the palace." 

Ashwatthama shrugs. "There's nothing I can do, Princess. I'm bound to the place where I died and the very thing stained with my resentment. Unless you find a way to move the dragon throne, I cannot accompany you on your journey."

Azula paces back and forth, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She can't afford to bite her fingers. Those types of motions are noticed, especially with the long claws called nails she has to keep. They're filed daily by the palace maids. The skin around her cuticles and her nails must be untouched unless she wants one of those idiots to go running to Lo and Li. Azula lets out a careful, measured breath, the pointy ends of her nails digging into the skin of her palms. What she wouldn't do to cut these off, it's unsightly and impractical.

Well, unless it's in a battle. Then they're plenty useful. Just like... weapons...

"Ashwatthama," at his raised eyebrow, she rolls her eyes, "don't tell me you just died without a fight. Your weapon - would that work?"

Ashwatthama frowns. "That would depend," he rumbles, his sight on his hands, "it has to be stained with my resentment. Only something containing equal resentment -"

"- Would be enough for you to move places," Azula finishes sourly. Great. There are times she misses having the ability to curse, these days it seems so boorish and unneeded, having grown up with place etiquette but sometimes she still slips. 

Very rarely. Like that time with Iluya. Azula's expression twists, turning acerbic. Disgusting, she should have better control than this. It's something she needs to erase wholly. It's unsightly. There's no need for something so unpleasant when one has the ability to efficiently get the point across using eloquent words. And Azula does have the ability, she's made sure of that. 

Falling further from one's potential, that's a well of misery. What an outstanding disappointment she is... Azula wrestles her thoughts under control. 

"You don't remember anything about your death?" She questions, seating herself on her armchair and crossing a leg over another, surveying Prince Ashwatthama over her interlocked fingers. "Not even a little bit?"

If she were a nicer person or at least, a more considerate one, she would have never asked. The more traumatic a ghosts death was, the less they remembered. There's only one exception and she's never met it, and that's the only thing that garners Agni her genuine prayers. 

Thankfully for everyone around her, she's not a considerate person; she's a menace who gets what she wants, even if what she wants is the world, and that means that things actually get done. One way or another.

Ashwatthama gives a wry smile, his eyes resigned. "If I knew, Princess," he says quietly, his earrings chiming as they swayed, "you would know."

Brilliant. The one ghost she needs is one who has bound himself and has no idea why he did so or how he can undo it. 

Her nails click together as she taps her thumbs against one another. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. Azula needs this and what Azula wants, Azula _gets_. There's no force in this world that can keep her from achieving what she aims for. Nothing.

That means she has to find a way to get Ashwatthama out of the palace to report to her but still keep him grounded here so that he cannot escape. He cannot remember the manner of his death. The only thing he can remember is waking up as an afterimage on the dragon throne, and so if Azula finds something else containing his resentment or rather, a greater portion of his resentment and reminds him of it, he will no longer be of any use. 

He's only of use because father uses the throne room for all war meetings, and of course, any other meetings in between: big or small. If he's torn away from there - if he has the freedom to chose and chooses to wander to the other side of his binding without ever returning - he can no longer be her eyes and ears when it comes to Ozai. 

Decisions, decisions. Which one will serve her best?

Well, she has to find another source first, and if there isn't one? She has to make it.

And for that, she needs the only other ghosts who have survived the withering of time. The only other ones who still remain in the palace are those two, Ezekiel and Anahita. Azula must make use of them. Azula's never been one for not tapping into a wealth of knowledge. Only when something has outlived its usefulness does she discard it. 

And they haven't outlived their usefulness yet. 

Azula intends to milk them dry. 

* * *

Azula's painted lips curve upwards as she snarls and rages on the inside. The fury inside her grows hotter but she must not express it. She will not. She's no disappointment after all. Perfect, poised, not a hair of place. She has better control than that.

She's the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation, the heir of Fire Lord Ozai. Her control cannot be questioned. 

"Granddaughter," the thing opposite her greets her. Just why is he still around?

Oh right, a disturbed line of succession, regicide, etc, etc. Restore his honour, get rid of her mother and perhaps father too ... as if! Her mother hadn't even thought once about her children before she chose to forget them both, what use would revealing her treasonous deed do? And besides, who was she to lodge that complaint to? The Fire Lord? Her father who had arranged it? 

Why would she waste that much energy on a task she didn't care about? It has no advantages for her. 

"Grandfather," she greets back, just as sweet as the false smile they both wear. 

She has a week to arrange her plans before she leaves. She has no time for this. 

But... an unheeded factor is a dangerous one. The unprepared are the defeated, and Azula will never taste defeat that's not been weaved of her own hand. Not in the things that matter. 

"I heard you were searching for something," Azulon says as he falls into step with her, "Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

_And what is that you want in return, old man? _Azula doesn't express this, there's not a single twitch in her bearing. She's always been a very good liar. It's a skill that has served her well. "Not unless you have a hidden stash of ancestral weapons," she answers flippantly. 

"If that's all you wanted, granddaughter," Azulon says mildly, "you only had to ask."

Astonishment rushes through her but she does not allow it to show. "Hm," she hums, interest peeking in her tone through but just so. It wouldn't do to show total disinterest in a topic she has raised, not when she had already sent Anahita and Ezekiel searching for wisps of Ashwatthama's resentment. She's invested in this but Azulon doesn't need to be informed how much. Sometimes, the things one try to hide are more telling than outright admissions.

Outright admissions are only useful when one can trust the other's word. 

"Lead the way then, grandfather." Azula follows slowly at Azulon's heels. She doesn't have much hope in this but it's always best to explore one's options, even those with hidden catches.

The only one who knows anything relatively well on the topic of Prince Ashwatthama is Ezekiel, and he doesn't know anything beyond "his tyrant of a father killed him. Heard his people adored him. How much of a better leader he would have been than your disgusting bloodline." Ezekiel had told Azula that after she'd first met Ashwatthama, informing her on one of their little trips underground - another one Ezekiel's unhinged plans to murder her. Pity for him, she was always smarter. 

Someone knew about Ashwatthama's past. Someone had told Ezekiel what he knew. But whoever that had been, they didn't exist anymore. 

The rest of the ghosts that remain in the palace are clueless. 

"I burned most of the things my father wanted gone," Azulon says as he leads the way. "But there were some I couldn't bear to torch. I kept them for myself and I was going to pass the secret onto Iroh when he became Fire Lord. Of course, that never happened, but I suppose as the grandchild bearing my name you are worthy enough for it to be passed onto you, Azula."

Azula does not scoff but she does allow her mirth to the surface, her lips quirking. Did he really think she's going to swallow those flowery lines? She's survived Ozai as a father and he survived _Azulon_. She's a tried and new tested model, she's been trained to be better than Ozai was at this age. She has had her father's full support growing up, unlike his own experience, he would be disappointed if she still turned out a failure otherwise.

She's never going to take someone at face level. Everyone has some kind of motivation behind their actions. You find that; you control them. 

"I am honoured, grandfather, by your trust," she murmurs. It's easy to figure out Azulon's motivation. He wants her on his side, wants to sway her over with sweetened honey until she becomes so attached to him she betrays her father. He's content with playing the long game as long as Ozai gets a taste of his own medicine. 

_Boring_. As though she'd be idiotic enough to get attached to ghosts who linger for the sole reason of their own agendas. The only reason spirits will ever be interested in her is for using her for their own purposes. Like calls like, she tolerates this as long as her own objectives get served at the same time. 

Spirits always want something, and there'll never be a single selfless action when it comes to them.

The ring of bells echoes with a peal of laughter as a small figure rushes in front of her. His minder follows behind at a sedate pace. 

"Princess Azula," Anahita addresses. Azula nods back at her.

"Found anything yet?" Azula asks and Anahita shakes her head. 

"The old man sure has been hiding treasures from us," Ezekiel's voice floats back to them, and Azula and Anahita turn the corner to enter an ill-lit chamber. 

It's stale in here, musty from the years of neglect. Cobwebs decorate the arches of the painted ceiling, most of which can't be made out due to the dust covering it. Fire flickers to life in Azula's hands and she quickly lights up the torches left behind. 

There's a pile of weapons littered on the floor. Beyond the discarded bows and daggers, Azula's gaze is drawn to a hilt which peeks out in the middle of the pile. "Ah," Azulon says, drawing it out of the heap, "I see you've noticed." The scabbard is beautiful. It's made out of dark, black wood and it has ornamental gold carvings sneaking around it but not to the point it's overwhelming. It's balanced. An exquisite piece of work which must have been made by skilled hands. 

Azulon unsheathes it and the metal gleams in the flickering fire-light. As it turns and twists, the metal looks almost black. "This sword was held by the strongest swordsman in Fire Nation history," Azulon draws a hand down the length of the sword as he muses, "Father burned most of the books detailing his life so unfortunately, there's no name to add to the legend but I remember reading the scrolls as a child. Of course, they were all locked up in the Dragonbone Catacombs, but I longed to master his techniques. He left none. A master swordsman and there's nothing more to his legacy than an abandoned sword and scrolls of his feats which no longer exist."

Azulon may not know the name, but Azula is sure she knows. Azulon sighs. "It was locked up in the tomb of one of the older Fire Lords but it's of no use. No one can wield it - it's loyal to its former master." Azulon sheathes sword back into its scabbard. "Do you still want it, granddaughter?"

Azula reaches out to grasp the offered sword. It's muted in the scabbard but when she seizes the hilt, the flood of resentment is unmistakable. The dark tassel with its blue beads brushes against her fingers as she stares at the object in her hands with triumph. 

Azula raises her eyes. "Thank you, grandfather," she bows, and Azulon's lips curl in a smile, victory lurking in his gold eyes but she'll allow him to have this. It's to her benefit, after all. 

"Is that what you wanted, Azula?" Ezekiel comes closer, running a curious hand through the hanging tassels and rubbing his fingers against the blue beads. "There's blood here." 

"Yes," the voice that speaks is hoarse. "Are you sure that this is what you want, Princess?" Anahita's stare at Ezekiel's fingers is voracious. The way her eyes hunger at the sight of the sword raises the fine hairs on the back of Azula's neck.

A ghost fixating on anything this much is not a good sign. "Yes," Azula answers, clipped. 

Ezekiel clasps a hand around hers as Azula snuffs out the flames gleaming in the chamber and makes her way out. His hand is cold. "Anahita," Azula orders, "Go to the front and lead the way. I can't be discovered if anyone stumbles down here by accident."

More like she doesn't want an unbalanced ghost at her back. If she transforms... Azula's hand tightens around Ezekiel's. The only one down here she can trust is Azulon if only for his self-preservation instincts. 

Anahita has been Ezekiel's minder for centuries, and she's a water tribe ghost. Agni above, everyone knows how emotional the water tribe are. If she transforms... the intensity of her emotions are not to be underestimated, she'll be a very, very powerful malevolent force. Azula doesn't know which way Ezekiel's reaction will swing. If he gets absorbed into her, and she manages to kill Azula? Might as well say good-bye to the entirety of this city. 

Azula's palm blazes with her flames as she illuminates the way ahead. _Agni, _she prays, _look after us. Do not let her transform, and if she does, grant me the ability to purify her. _The Great Spirit is never far from her, she knows he's listening. _You've done so much but if she successfully turns, your plans will be thwarted. _

Azula would be enraged if all she's been through was for no reason at all. 

The heat that rushes through her body tells her she's been heard. Anahita's white hair moves as she walks, the water tribe beads glistening as they finally emerge from the underground tunnel and step into the protection of the sun.

Her face is calm, as though she hadn't been ravenously coveting the sword earlier. 

"Princess," she says, "I have a proposition for you." 

_Interesting._

Azula doesn't particularly feel like hearing her out, but she's always been of the opinion of keeping her enemies as close as she can. She listens. 

* * *

Travelling in a palanquin is such a bore. 

Azula can't wait to get rid of Lo and Li. Adhering to court etiquette all the time is so tedious. 

She hums as she gets off it and stretches her legs. She delivers her speech with flair, as expected of her, and then informs the captain that she expects to be at their destination before nightfall or he'll be thrown overboard. She's waited long enough to see her brother. 

She's not actually going to throw the captain abroad but _he _doesn't know that. The advantage of being a good liar is that she gets away with a lot of things just by bluffing. It's a very amusing skill, watching people flail and sweat all the while knowing that she's going to do absolutely nothing to them. 

She ignores the two other guests who have accompanied her. It's not like anyone else can see them anyway, she can be impolite and ignore them if she wants to. 

The ship pulls in well before nightfall. Funny how people can exceed their limits under threats of impending death. It's good motivation, she'll have to try it again in the future.

The cottage Zuko and Iroh have chosen is a quaint little thing. Very scenic. Azula approves. With the way they're going to be on the run soon, it's good that they got some relaxation done before they started. Pity Azula couldn't join in on the festivities but she's going to have plenty of fun of her own soon, chasing the Avatar and his little gang. 

She chooses a nice seat near the window and waits for her brother, enjoying the rare time off. She only has to hang on for another year and then the world's going to be hers to explore. She can't wait. Her brother and uncle come back without noticing her sitting right across them. Dear Agni, they've really put their guard down, haven't they? That wouldn't do at all. 

"Hello, brother, uncle." It would be funny how quickly their faces change if it wasn't a little hurtful. She hasn't been that awful, has she? Her mistake, she just can't help teasing her brother whenever she sees his face. He should do something about that.

Oh dear, Iroh fixes her with a hostile stare as Zuko questions in a hard voice, "What are you doing here?" Oh? Scary~

She's travelling with two ticking bombs and has been living with another for the last three years, does his royal tea-loving kookiness really think that's going to scare her? Tch. 

Azula smirks. "I've missed you, Zuzu, you didn't miss me?" 

"Don't call me that!" She's starting to relearn of Zuko's quick temper, it seems like three years of distance has had her colouring her brother's memory with rose-tinted glasses. She's forgotten that he's a sixteen-year-old teen boy with anger issues and not the Fire Lord from Agni's plans.

"You'd think after continuous years of me addressing you like that, you'd get used to it." Azula shakes her head in mock disappointment, standing up and examining one of the shells Iroh has spilt over the table. 

Hm. Pretty. She squashes it under her frankly, ugly sharp nails. "I've got great news for you, Zuko." See? She can behave. She just chooses not to. "Father regrets your banishment. He wants you home." 

Her lips twitch at Iroh's dubious face. Her uncle really has the best expressions. Doesn't mean she's fond of him, but she can appreciate some good comedic relief when she wants to. 

Zuko's still. "Father... regrets? He... wants me back?" Uh, no. _But you'll learn that soon enough. _

"I see you need time to take this in," she circles around the room. "Where are you sleeping in this tiny thing anyway? Got a spare bed? I'm not a messenger but I came all this way to deliver you a message, no thank you and such lacking hospitality," she clicks her tongue, "really, Zuzu."

Zuko's frozen. 

Iroh takes over. "You're staying niece?"

"Yes, Uncle." Her feet start moving again, this time without her own accord, leading her straight towards the door. Azula's smile stays fixed in place. "I came _all_ this way to see family after such a long time - it is beautiful outside, isn't it? I may lea-" 

Her uncle and brother exchange glances. Azula inhales and exhales. _Just because I'm staying the night here instead of somewhere else, _she directs coldly above, _does not_ _mean I'm changing anything significant. They're still going to get arrested tomorrow and escape to the Earth Kingdom. I've made sure of that so. STOP. INTERFERING! _

The lead weighing her feet down suddenly releases. Azula smooths her hands down her clothes and turns around. 

"Are you staying or leaving?" Her brother snaps. Well, good enough to know that he can tell when she's not herself, even if it's to a very minute degree.

"Staying," she answers coolly, her pleasant mood gone. "No tea to share with your niece, uncle?" Her uncle startles. Hmmph. What use is he? Learns to look into the spirit world but cannot even tell that his own niece is entangled with a Great Spirit. 

"Of course," Iroh bustles into action. Azula scoffs. Of course, mentioning tea would do the trick. Perhaps she should have done that ages ago, but even as the hostility fades from her uncle's face and he serves the tea with cheer, Azula's no fool. This man had stared Zhao in the face and pretended to be a dotty old man, instead of the furious general that he was at his beloved nephew's attempted assassination. The patience that it takes to hold a facade like is formidable.

Funnily enough, her uncle is as good of a liar as she is. She sips at the steaming tea, what a disturbing world, in which she can identify herself and her uncle to have similarities while making the same comparisons for her father and brother. Whatever else you can call the man, Ozai has never made any secret of his plans. Whatever he wants, he declares openly and proudly. He may be manipulative and uses words to his advantage, unlike Zuko, but he always twists the truth.

He would have never had the patience to pretend to be something he's not. Not like Iroh and Azula. "Do you like the tea, Azula?" Her uncle sits opposite her, Zuko nowhere to be seen. He's probably stormed off somewhere to sulk and clear his head. Uncle Iroh pours some for himself. "It's a special blend, made from the local flowers you see blooming everywhere. I find it delectable myself." 

Azula sets the teacup down with a clink. "It's delicious, thank you, uncle." Her uncle smiles at her and she smiles back, and then they sit comfortable silence, both pretending to be what they are not. 

It is, quite ironically, the most comfortable she's been in a while. 

After an hour, her brother finally makes his way back, throws a stink-eye at the game of Pai Sho Uncle Iroh and Azula are playing and retreats to his bedroom. 

That's her cue. "I think I'm done for the night uncle," Azula says primly and stands up. 

Iroh chuckles. "A very good game niece," he praises standing up and starts humming as he ambles away to examine his shell collection. Azula leaves him to that and follows her brother to his room, opening without asking permission. 

Zuko sits up, eyeing her warily as she leans against the door. He's already gotten ready for bed. Typical. 

"What do you want, Azula?" He sounds tired. The dum-dum. Azula flings the vest she's brought along at his face, and he catches it with one hand. 

"Urgh, get dressed, dum-dum, and shift over. We're having a sleepover."

Zuko's face twists with the beginning of an angry shout. "You're way too old to be pulling pranks like this, Azula. Since when have you done sleepovers?"

Azula sighs and casts a dramatic eye around. "Well I wouldn't normally, Zuko," she drawls, "but there doesn't seem to be any other satisfactory place to sleep here, or are you seeing something I can't? And I'm fourteen, dumbass, pretty sure I can have a sleepover with my older brother if I wanted to. Don't you know?" She presses a hand against her chest. "I had something _terrible _told to me and I am horribly scared. You should do the older brother thing Mother taught you to do and comfort me." 

Zuko's jaw clenches and he glares mulishly, but he throws the vest on and shifts, clearing some space for her on the bed. "I don't know what game you're playing now, Azula," he says lowly as she gets in, "but I'm not having it. I'm not going to play along anymore."

Azula tries very hard not to roll her eyes. Idiot. _You're going to be on the run, robbing and looking for any sort of comfort soon enough, don't come crying to me when you remember this missed opportunity. _

Then there's nothing but silence as they both lie on the bed, uncomfortable. "Just go to sleep, Zuko. No games tonight, I promise."

"Unfortunately, your promises don't really mean much, Azula." Ouch, but also blatantly true so she can't really blame him. 

Azula yawns. Her brother may be angry, but he's angry and breathing next to her so it's acceptable, she guesses. "You really need to do something about your temper, Zuzu. You're going to scare everyone away soon if you don't."

Zuko snorts. "Like you're one to talk, Azula," he says, voice heavy with ridicule, "is there anyone you haven't driven off with your personality? Everyone's scared of you, Azula, and that's the way you like it. You'll _never _change." Azula stares at her pillow through lowered lashes. Does it matter if she tries to change? It's destined that no will ever stay at her side. No matter what she does, she'll end up alone so what's the point?

There are another few minutes of awkward silence. 

"Father," Zuko broaches, quiet. His breath hitches, "Was he worried? After he heard what happened?" Azula doesn't answer. Zuko rambles on, "Is that why he's regretting now and wants me back home? Was he scared when he heard I died? I mean I know I shouldn't have lied but it was a close call and... Azula?" 

Azula chews on the inside of her cheek, contemplating. _"I'm _glad you're not dead, Zuko," she says back, just as quietly. She doesn't offer anything on the subject of their father. There's a lot she's willing to lie about but this... she won't say anything on this.

That's uncle's place. 

Eventually, Zuko turns around and falls silent. Back to back, the pattern of his breathing tells Azula that he's fallen to sleep. 

Azula doesn't think he'll be having very pleasant dreams tonight. 

She doesn't think she'll be having any pleasant dreams tonight, either. Chest stuffy, Azula lulls herself to sleep, aware that tomorrow she'll be shattering the shallow trust she's built with her brother. 

There's a lot she's willing to endure to get to what she wants. She knows the role she has to play to get Zuko to where he has to be. But she won't be able to forgive Agni for giving her no choice but to transgress on the chances her brother has given her. 

For slowly breaking down with her own actions, any sort of real love a member of her family might hold for her. 


	8. Destiny 8

Azula watches as her brother and uncle flee from her. 

Behind her, Lo and Li approach. "I must track them down," she speaks up, "but the Royal Procession will be dead weight. I must go with a small, elite team." 

"You're right," Lo says, "when tracking your brother and uncle, travelling with the Royal Procession is no longer an option -"

"- no longer wise -" Li carries on.

"- if you hope to keep the element of surprise," they finish in tandem. 

Azula nods sharply. "I will go alone, first, and track down Ty Lee. Her chi blocking should be useful. Have the villagers informed that anyone who attempts to harbour my brother and uncle with face the Fire Lord's wrath, and make sure the posters are put in clear view. I want no mistakes."

She glances down at her dripping clothes and curls a lip. "I have to go and get refreshed." She starts to walk away and then stops. "Oh, and inform the crew that if they spot our fugitives, they're not to be killed. Father wants them alive."

Once she's in her cabin and has flung off her filthy garments, she steps under the shower immediately. A blast of ice water hits her straight in the face. Azula grits her teeth. "Ezekiel," she manages out, the water turning to steam around her, "stop messing with the pipes. Right. Now."

There's a nasty giggle and the sound of something slithering resonates in the ship's walls. Azula allows herself a few precious minutes under the soothing hot water before she turns the tap off and dresses, stepping out as she rubs her towel through her hair.

As she expected, Anahita is in her cabin. "Get ready," Azula says irritably, as she flings her towel on her bed, and picks up a comb, "we'll be separating from the Royal Procession and advancing on our own." 

Anahita watches her pick through the tangles in her hair. "You seem adept at tugging those free," she comments, "for someone who has had servants tend to it for all your life." 

"I'm not helpless," Azula sneers, throwing the wet, straightened strands behind her shoulder. "Where's your little monster?" She asks and then breathes, allowing the temperature of her body to raise just enough so that her hair dries halfway and then leaves it at that.

Anahita has a small smile playing on her lips. "He's not mine." 

Cold arms wrap around her neck from the back, and a small face presses against her shoulder. "We can't be owned," Ezekiel says darkly in her ear. "Though that's not something I'd expect you to understand."

Azula can't help a burst of laughter at that. _"I _can't understand that?" Her, who has limited freedom in what she can do - she's the one who can't understand? 

"He's right," Anahita says flatly, "your family has never understood what they can and cannot own."

Azula assesses her. "Don't tell me you have a vendetta against my family too?" Ezekiel has made his displeasure loud and clear in the years she has known him, but Anahita has always been more placid. A shadow rather than a ghost lingering due to resentment.

Anahita smiles, thin-lipped, and does not say anything further. 

Ezekiel drops from her back and wanders around the cabin, poking at the Fire Nation decorations. "It doesn't take much to observe that, dear Azula, your bloodline has been openly conquering for the last hundred years or so. You don't need to have a personal vendetta to be able to say that much."

"Are we leaving tonight?" Anahita asks, and Azula sighs. 

"Not tonight," she answers tiredly. "I've sent the captain to arrange a smaller boat to travel in. We'll set off early tomorrow morning, with a crew of four." 

Ezekiel releases a louder sigh. "Pity I can't poke a hole into this thing," he says dejectedly, stamping the floor with his tiny feet, "or you could have drowned." Azula closes her eyes and lies back on her bed.

"Come over here," she murmurs, "and stroke my hair, and I'll allow you to manifest once on this trip." 

Ezekiel blurs onto her bed, not bothering to walk, and eagerly soothes a hand over her forehead. "Whatever you want Lala," he says, enthusiastically. "And I promise, when I kill you, I won't make it hurt one bit."

Against her will, Azula snorts. "You helped raise me, Ezekiel, your promises matter as much as mine."

Ezekiel tenderly presses his cheek against hers, and the imprint of his smile matches her own. Azula falls asleep to a small piece of familiarity she's assured will always stay the same. 

* * *

Azula awakes with the sunrise to find an amused Ashwatthama sitting at the foot of her bed, staring at her with a sword balanced on his lap. "You found it," Azula says groggily, sitting up, alertness seeping into her with every second that passes. 

"More like you found her," Ashwatthama inclines his head, "I thank you, Princess." He smooths a fond hand down the sword, pausing at the gold engravements and sweeps his thumb over them. "These came later, I think," he ponders, "it doesn't feel as familiar. They must have added the embellishments to the scabbard more recently." 

He removes the sword from the scabbard in one fluent motion and Azula's eyes widen. "You've turned it into a spirit weapon," she breathes, fascinated as she watches the sword become immaterial; as ghostly as it's wielder. "How?" 

Ashwatthama grins. "She's always been a spiritual sword," he says, thick with affection, "she just allowed me to wield her is all." 

Azula stares. The sword's sentient? "How?" She blurts out, amazed. The possibilities this could raise...

"It's easy," Ezekiel says, bored. He's lying on his side, an arm propping up his head. "You just take something you've used frequently, and pour your spiritual aura into it." He points a finger at Ashwatthama. "You must have carried that thing with you everywhere."

Ashwatthama nods. "She's an extension of myself. How could I leave one of my limbs behind? It's impossible. Only death has made us part." He stares solemnly at the sword and then lifts her, extending the sword in Azula's direction with gentle care. 

"I must go, Princess. Your father must be rising, I cannot be late." Azula hesitantly grasps the sword and lays it - _her_ \- on her lap. "I am leaving her in your care, please take good care of her." Ashwatthama vanishes, and Ezekiel sits up. 

"You're done now right?" He cups his hands and moves them in her direction. 

"No," Azula states blandly, and she reaches out and puts his hands down. "I'm not manifesting you right now." Ezekiel's face changes. "Besides, how did you know that about the spirit weapons?" 

Ezekiel seethes. His form starts to mist. "You said during this trip you'll manifest me! YOU LIAR!" He roars, his blue eyes growing darker. 

"Yes," Azula says, "during this trip, which hasn't ended yet. It'll end only when we return to the palace with Zuko and my uncle, which was the stated objective when we left. We haven't fulfilled it yet. So there's plenty of time left for me to decide when you can manifest." 

The shrieking raises to inhuman levels and Ezekiel lunges to rake his nails in her face. Azula doesn't flinch as he falls through her body. His resentment is strong, but it's not enough to turn him into a malevolent spirit. He won't be able to harm her like this. 

She gets off the bed and makes herself presentable, ignoring the unearthly sounds occurring in the background. 

"When you're done with your tantrum, meet me on the deck," Azula throws over her shoulder as she leaves. 

The sword on her hip is heavy as she walks. "Captain," she calls out, meeting the unnerved man as she strides out onto the deck. The man swallows.

"Your highness," he says. 

Azula smirks. "Have you chosen a replacement? Captain..."

"Chao, your highness."

"Captain Chao... we are ready to set off, aren't we?"

The man bows. "Yes, your highness," he says lowly. "I thank you for your magnanimity." 

"As you should. Try not to err again, and you won't be thrown overboard."

* * *

The wind is a pleasant rush against her skin as they travel. Azula eyes the pouch she's brought along and deftly hides it inside her sleeve. It'll be carried with her at all times. It would be a waste not to test out Ezekiel's theory. 

The ship they're on is a smaller boat. It's used for faster traction and favours subtlety, unlike her earlier vessel. There are two men on board and two women, not counting Azula, and all of them are fire benders (if you disregard the captain). Then they are the two other additions the rest of the crew can't see but can certainly perceive, considering the slight shiver they've been fighting all this time despite being competent fire benders. 

"Tell your child to knock it off," Azula orders to Anahita, "or else..." 

Anahita blinks at her as Azula turns away. Her usual protests do not surface today. They're useless anyway, her biological child or not, having been his minder for centuries it wouldn't be surprising if Ezekiel saw her as a mother figure. 

"Captain Chao," Azula says as she draws nearer. The man does not flinch, his eyes focused out on the sea. 

"Your highness," he bows. 

"We'll be taking a detour," Azula informs him. "We're still on a time crunch, but there are tasks I need to fulfil on the side as we make our way. Have you found sightings of the circus I mentioned?" 

"Yes, your highness," a husky voice speaks. A tall woman bows to her. "I'm your navigator, your highness, my name is Aella." She unravels a map and taps a place. "The circus you mentioned is currently here, on the outskirts of Fire Foundation City. It'll take us three days to get there." 

Azula hums, as the navigator draws a line. "From there it'll take us about eleven days to get to Omashu." 

"And what about the village of Jang Hui?"

The navigator frowns, her brows furrowing. "It's here, between Ember Island and Crescent Island. More towards Crescent Island, really. If you are thinking of stopping there, it'll take a day extra to get to Fire Foundation City."

"We don't have a day extra," Azula says, her voice forbidding. "Figure out a way to get there quicker, you managed last time." 

The Captain shakes his head as the navigator opens her mouth and she closes it back shut. His eyes flicker with a warning and Aella bows, "Yes, your highness," she says quietly. 

"Good."

The stir of the wind carries a haunting melody in their direction. Azula seizes up the captain and the navigator but neither reacted. As it rises in a crescendo, the captain and navigator relax, and the output of heat the navigator is consciously radiating drops as the air becomes warmer; the spiritual energy smothering the air withdrawing.

Dismissing the two, Azula follows the sound and finds Ezekiel sitting peacefully on the deck, in front of Anahita who holds a stringed instrument and plays, her fingers running over the strings gracefully. "That's a Fire Nation instrument," Azula comments. 

"We may not be of the Fire Nation," Anahita says calmly, "but we have both called it our home at some point in time." 

Azula sits cross-legged next to an entranced Ezekiel. His ash-blond locks flutter in the wind as he stares at the instrument. "You really are like his mother," Azula expresses amused. "Calming him down without a word."

"No," Ezekiel utters. "She'll never be my mother."

The melody picks up in pace. "No," Anahita agrees. "That's something you'll never comprehend Azula."

"You've never had an equal, have you?" Ezekiel turns his head towards her, "so you've never grasped it. What a pitiful thing you are... to have never known companionship."

Behind Anahita, the sun sinks, casting out its dying rays. Anahita's tune starts drawing to a close, her fingers stilling. "I'm not his servant, Azula, or his minder. He was left in my care, that much is true... but over the years he has become my equal." For the first time, there's a glint of pity in her eyes as she stares at Azula. "Indeed," she whispers, "what a pitiful creature." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep trying to write an uplifting chapter because I can tell from your comments that the recent chapters have been taking an emotional toll on you all but it still turns out like this. Someone help. This one was meant to be a more peaceful chapter but it turned into a melancholy one but!! Good news!! This chapter marks the turn for better, happier chapters for a while, I think. Ty Lee and Mai were also supposed to be introduced this chapter but I thought cutting off at this point would be better, so it turned into kind of a transitional chapter but it's still important!! There's a lot happening even if it doesn't feel like it. You'll get it later, I promise.
> 
> 🌷🌷🌷
> 
> Btw, finding fire nation appropriate names is hard. Does anyone have any advice on where I can find a website or something similar to find these names? There used to be a very helpful list with names for OC's corresponding to each nation that I just can't find anymore.
> 
> 🌷🌷🌷
> 
> I see all your comments and will try to respond to them as soon as possible! But right now I'm still in the groove so I'm just going to go straight into writing chapter 9 and will respond to you guys after I've written it. Thank you for reading my fic and for loving it, and for sticking through. 💕


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